She had her own views as to quantities, which, however, as they did not at all fit in with her mother’s and Eileen’s, she wisely kept to herself. No use warring against the majority, and little matter either way. If the others thought dozens of everything necessary Paddy supposed it was all right, but, for her part, she wondered how so many clothes could possibly ever get worn, and where Eileen was going to keep them all when she was not wearing them. “We might be making clothes for Jack as well,” she remarked once, surveying the growing piles; and when they told her laughingly Jack was getting his own dozens and half-dozens, she fairly gasped. Nothing much had been said about that speedy flight of hers at Christmas. Both Eileen and the mother had attempted to win her confidence, but Paddy would not speak. Eileen had finally guessed. “It is Lawrence, Paddy, isn’t it?” she asked. Paddy, driven in a corner, consented, but would not go on. Eileen had then fidgeted a little, and, blushing painfully, stammered: “You would not let anything in reference to me two years ago influence you, I hope, Paddy.” Paddy made no reply. “Because, as it happened, you see, it was such a good thing. I could never have been as happy with any one else as I am with Jack. Tell me, Paddy?” looking hard into her sister’s eyes. Paddy shook her head. “I can’t tell you anything, Eily,” she answered. “Please don’t ask me.” And Eileen had to give in. Jack tried when he came for a flying visit about wall-papers and paint and things, and it was then for the first time that they learnt of Paddy’s unlooked-for decision. “What colour is your room to be, Paddy?” he asked. “I am waiting your orders.” “You are very good,” a little uncomfortably, “but I’m not coming to live at The Ghan House.” “Not coming to live at The Ghan House!” as if he could not believe his own ears, while Eileen and her mother looked up in amazement. Paddy had to brace herself with the utmost determination. “I have thought it all over carefully,” she said, “and I have decided to stay in London. I have developed a very independent spirit of late, somehow,” with a little smile, “and I mean to stick to my post.” “But, my dear child—” began Mrs Adair in great distress, while Jack threw a newspaper at her head and said: “Don’t talk rubbish, Paddy.” Eileen looked dumbfounded. “It is not rubbish,” Paddy went on bravely, “and nothing you can say will alter me. I have spoken to uncle about it, and he is going to let me live with them and pay something.” She paused a moment, drawing a pattern on the tablecloth. “He does not want me to pay,” she went on, “he says he will be only too glad to have me, but I would like to feel perfectly independent. He is lonely sometimes, and he always wanted a daughter.” A mistiness crossed her eyes, and she smiled a little crooked smile as she added: