"Oh, K.K., he's never forgotten! He thinks I'm a baby! And it's all
that petticoat! I knew it!"
*CHAPTER XXXI*
These came a morning when Miss Kezia breakfasted in angry state, alone.
At eight o'clock she sat down, as usual, to the table. With down-drawn
lip she filled the five cups with coffee, then started on her porridge.
Every now and then her eye glanced at the four bowls of porridge with
their rapidly lessening issue of steam. From overhead there came, at
intervals, the banging of a door, the rush of footsteps from one room to
another, a burst of laughter now and then. Miss Kezia went on with her
breakfast. Once Sarah knocked timidly, and, with a scared face, dared
the whispered suggestion that she should take the porridge "to keep it
hot." Her courage failed before ever Miss Kezia's grim lips had begun
to frame an answer, and she fled back to the refuge of the kitchen.
From above came Denis's voice, jubilant, a musical shout of joy.
"'Miss Judy O'Connor, she lived forninst me
And tinder words to her I wrote--'
"I say, Nell, did I leave my towels in your room?"
Down came Miss Kezia's upper lip.