"Denis, do you think it'll frighten them dreadfully to get a cablegram
from us?"
"Only for a second, and it can't be helped, worse luck!"
"We won't tell Molly or the Atom, will we?"
"No. We'll wait. It would drive the Atom mad to wait."
"Yes." She looked as if she thought it might drive her mad, too.
When she and Denis were alone in the Stronghold that night, she observed
elatedly, and with considerable confidence, "And we'll be able to manage
so beautifully, because we've had such practice in economising lately."
He nodded.
"We'll live on potatoes, old girl! I must say I prefer to economise on
praties rather than on porridge."
"I've been thinking it all out. We'll have to be very careful, of
course, but what does it matter--what does it matter? I'll sweep and
clean and groom the horses! I'll have one dress a year--oh, Denis!
Denis! I'm all in a wuzzle. I'm so happy that--"
"Let's go out! Come along. I shall burst if I don't."
"We'll find a quiet square and _run_!" she cried.
It was ten o'clock. At eleven o'clock they remembered that they would
be locked out. They returned and threw small stones at Herr Schmidt's
window. He let them in.
"Ach," he exclaimed, looking at Nell, "you make my dry heart glad!"
*CHAPTER XXXIV*
Miss Kezia entered the dining room.
Molly, hastily and with a very red face, slipped the sheet of paper on
which she had been writing beneath the blotting paper. She looked up,
and the giggle that had started to her lips died away.
"Oh! Oh, can I do anything for you, Aunt Kezia?" She jumped up and
kicked over her chair.
Miss Kezia replied stiffly that she required nothing from her. She
looked at her thoughtfully.
"I suppose it was you who put my everyday bonnet into the wrong box?"
she queried.
"I--oh, was it the wrong box? I--I'm very sorry--"
"And it was you who sewed a black button on my glove, while the others
are white, I suppose?"
"I didn't think it would matter--"
"And may I ask where you have hidden my keys?"
"I--I haven't touched them!" Eagerly she seized on the small bit of
relief. "I haven't seen them."
"You surprise me!" Miss Kezia said, with a strong inflexion of sarcasm
in her tone. "Hadn't you better pick up that chair?"
Molly stooped and set it erect; she blinked back tears.
Miss Kezia said: "You are a very peculiar girl, Molly. I should be
obliged if you would leave my things alone. You puzzle me, but I
understand that you mean well."
Molly's downcast face lightened. Impulsively she burst out, "Oh, thank
you, aunt--_auntie_!"
"I," said Miss Kezia, "object to pet names!"
She walked from the room, leaving a scarlet and abashed niece behind
her.
She went into Herr Schmidt's room to see that Sarah had dusted it
thoroughly. She found Sheila Pat sitting at the table, with paper,
pens, and ink of Herr Schmidt's before her.
"What are you doing in here, Sheila?"
"Writin' a private letter," said Sheila Pat.
"Take it up into your room! You have no business in here at all."
"Has," said Sheila Pat, in very judicial tones, "has Herr Schmidt ever
told you that you're like a little sunbeam in his room, and just as
welcome?"
Miss Kezia seemed a little disconcerted.
"N-no," she said.
"Then you'd better go," the Atom observed. "He's said that to me."
She bent over her writing.
Miss Kezia came closer.
"Please," said Sheila Pat, "don't read what I'm writin'. It's very
private."
"May I ask," said Miss Kezia, "if Herr Schmidt has also given you
permission to use his writing materials and paper?"
"He hasn't given me _permission_," said Sheila Pat; "he asked me to do
him the _honour_ of placin' them at my disposal."
It sounded very grand. Miss Kezia left the room.
She went upstairs to the Stronghold to speak to Nell. Nell was seated at
the table, writing. She started up guiltily as Miss Kezia entered the
room.
"You all appear to be very busy writing this morning," Miss Kezia said
crossly.
For some reason or other this seemed to amuse Nell considerably. She
began to laugh.
"Oh, are they writing, too? I wonder--" She broke off, and went on
laughing.
"Eileen, I am constantly obliged to chide you for your frivolity. You
laugh at nothing; or, at least, I can see no cause for laughter?"
There was a pronounced query at the end of her sentence. Nell strove to
answer it.
"Well, you see--you see--we're writing--private letters--at least, I am,
and now you say--so I suppose they are, too--you see--oh, I c-c-can't
help it, it's s-so f-f-funny!"
Miss Kezia gave the message she had come to deliver; she gave it in an
austere voice, and with a face of disgust. The she went.
"Oh, I'm a w-worm!" Nell chuckled, crawling beneath the sofa to speak to
James. "But, oh, Jimmy, I feel all mad these days! If--if it comes to
nothing--but it won't! it won't! Oh, Jimmy!"
The next morning was bright and sunny, with a gladness in the air, a
song of spring. It was the first of April, and even in London it was a
glorious day.
"I won't even _think_ the thought, 'What it would be like at
Kilbrannan,'" Nell declared to Denis, when she met him on her way down
to breakfast, "because--shan't we soon be there?" She broke out
singing:--
"'There blooms a bonny flower,
Up the heather glen;
Tho' bright in sun, in shower
'Tis just as bright again.
I never can pass by it,
I never dar' go nigh it,
My heart it won't be quiet,
Up the heather glen.
Sing O, the blooming heather!
O, the heather glen!
Where fairest fairies gather
To lure in mortal men--'"
She broke off; she turned to him on the last stair, hung on to his arm.
"Denis, if only, _only_ we might tell them! My hair fairly rises with
the weight of the secret! I know Sheila Pat is wondering what has come
to us!"
"Eileen, come in to breakfast!"
They went in. On the table there lay a great pile of letters. Molly
and the Atom came hurrying in; Denis tossed letters to them all, and
kept a few himself.
"I cannot understand why there are so many letters this morning," Miss
Kezia observed. She looked round the table, surprised.
"Why do you not open them?" she asked.
"Anticipation is the soul of wit!" observed Denis, absurdly.
They fingered their letters, laughing, glancing at each other.
"Have you all gone mad?" Miss Kezia demanded.
"That's a good suggestion," Denis opined thoughtfully. "They do look
somewhat abbreviated in the top story. As for me, I will open my
letters at one minute past twelve, noon."
He airily tucked them away in an inner pocket.
"I request an explanation of these horribly addressed letters!" Miss
Kezia cried.
The laughter broke out hilariously. Denis stretched out, picked up one
of Sheila Pat's letters, and eyed it with pride.
"I thought that rather good," he observed. "Look at the curly little
heads, and those tricky Greek _e_'s!"
"Molly!" Miss Kezia turned to her with an air of finality, "Molly, will
_you_ vouchsafe me an explanation?"