"Nell, I do want to be very perlite to-night. Don't you think I'd
better call him _Mister_ God?"
*CHAPTER XXXVI*
It was on the 9th of May that the letters came. They came in the middle
of the morning, when Nell and Molly and Sheila Pat were wrestling with
their studies. It was a real wrestle to fix their minds on their work,
for they knew it was mail day, and they knew that they might get an
answer to their cablegram that week. The Reve d'or shares had gone up
and up. That alone was sufficient to make any study a weariness of the
flesh. The wild hilarity in the atmosphere lately had been borne with a
considerable amount of fortitude by Miss Kezia. There had been storms;
there had been lectures; but Miss Kezia found herself making excuses for
her Irish relatives. She was not given to making excuses for people,
any more than she would have made them for herself; but she certainly
took to reminding herself during these hilarious days of such facts
connected with the O'Briens, as their youth, the peculiar circumstances
attending the Reve d'or shares, and largest excuse of all, their
nationality. Had she possessed nerves, they would have suffered
acutely. She wished sincerely that her relatives would not make such
undesirable acquaintances. She came upon Nell in the hall one day
holding a diminutive baby. It was enveloped entirely in an old shawl,
and Nell told her it was Irish! Miss Kezia had no fondness for babies,
but being in an amiable mood, she came forward to examine this one. But
Nell drew back with all the appearance of anxious alarm.
"Do you think you'd better come near, Aunt Kezia? He's fretful--perhaps
he has the measles or scarlet fever."
Miss Kezia had been very angry, and considerably alarmed. She had
ordered his instant return to his parents.
"Who is he? Where does he come from? Where are his people?"
Nell had told her that the baby's name was James O'Driscoll, that she
did not know where his people were, but would take him to some friends
of his.
Miss Kezia had been a good deal worried. For several days she
scrutinised her relatives' countenances, dreading to find them flushed
or spotted. But the weeks slipped by and not a spot appeared; not one
face was unduly flushed. Then the 9th of May dawned. It was a
beautiful 9th of May; the hilarity of these spring days was mixed with a
great restlessness; no one could settle down to anything. The
letters--there were four of them--came in the middle of the morning.
The first Miss Kezia knew of their arrival, was when she was swept aside
in the hall by an advancing trio, making for the door. She asked
questions. She received answers, breathless, wild, glad answers that
left her with a dazed understanding that something very wonderful had
happened, that they had received letters of marvellous import. Then
they swept out of the door. They left Miss Kezia calling out that
Molly's gloves were odd; that Sheila Pat's hat was on back to front;
that Nell had left her painting pinafore on, and it showed beneath her
coat. They laughed and waved back to her airily; they started, to her
consternation, running. She would have been more concerned had she
known where they were going. They made straight for the bank where
Denis worked. They ran all the way; they pushed open the swing doors,
they hurried in waving their letters above their heads.
Mr. Tellbridge was there, giving instructions to a clerk. Both he and
the clerk looked startled. Mr. Tellbridge also looked disapproving.
"Good morning!" Nell cried out breathlessly. "Oh, where is Denis?
Where is he, Mr. Tellbridge?"
"Here I am! What's up?"
From round the partition he came.
"Letters, Denis! They're coming home! In about two weeks! They got
the cablegram! He was just going to sell out! P.&O. boat! In a
fortnight they'll be here!"
Mr. Tellbridge pushed his spectacles up on his brow, and eyed them with
a mild surprise. He seemed to find the study of them and their joy
bewildering. In the babel his somewhat pompous, but not unkindly, "Dear
me, I cannot allow this!" passed unheard.