"Yes, father, she don't need no paint and flour to make a fairy on her just now. She's just like what she was the last time I seed her go up in a gauze cloud to heaven, with red and blue fire blazin' all round her." "I'll bid ye good-night now," said Willie, buttoning up his jacket to the chin, and pulling his cap down on his brows with the air of a man who has a long walk before him. "You're off, are you--eh?" said the elder clown, rising and taking Willie by the hand, "well, you're a good lad. Thank'ee for comin' here an' takin' care of Ziza. My subterranean grotto ain't much to boast of, but such as it is you're welcome to it at all times. Good-night." "Good-night," said Willie; "good-night, Jim." Jim replied good-night heartily, and then Willie stepped into the dark passage. He glanced back at the fairy before shutting the door, but her eyes were closed, so he said good-night to her in his heart, and went home. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. HOME LIFE. "My dear Miss Tippet, I shall never, no never, get over it." So said, and so undoubtedly thought, a thin little old lady with remarkably bright eyes, and a sweet old face, as she sat sipping tea at Miss Tippet's elbow. It was in the drawing-room of Miss Deemas that she sat, and the Eagle sat opposite to her. "It was very dreadful," responded Miss Tippet with a sigh--"very." "It was awful. I know I shall never get over it,--never," repeated the little old lady, finishing her tea, and asking for another cup in the calmest possible voice, with the sweetest possible smile. "Oh yes, you will, Mrs Denman," said Miss Deemas snappishly. "No, indeed, I won't," repeated Mrs Denman; "how can I? Just think of the situation. Sitting in my chair in dishabille, when a man--a Man, Miss Dee--" "Well, I know what a _man_ is," said the Eagle bitterly; "why don't you go on?" "Burst himself through my bedroom-door," continued Mrs Denman, "with lime and charcoal and brick-dust and water streaming down his face-- f-fo-olded me in his arms, bore me out into the street--the _street_! Oh! I shall never, _never_ get over it; and so little, so _very_ little clothing on me--" "How much had you on?" asked Miss Deemas in a deep voice, the calmness of which contrasted forcibly with Mrs Denman's excited tones. "Really, Miss Deemas, I see no necessity for going into particulars. It is sufficient to know that I was carried by a _man_ into the _street_ in the face of some thousands of people, for I heard them cheering though I saw them not. I know I shall never get over it--another cup, my love; not _quite_ so much sugar--no, not if I were to live to the age of Methusaleh." "I don't wonder, indeed I don't," murmured the sympathetic Miss Tippet. "I think, Julia dear, you are a little too hard on Mrs Denman. How would _you_ like to have been carried out of a burning house in such a way by a big rough man?"