"Oh, now he’s a nice, sweet Teddie again, and he’ll let me tell him to come and sit up in the Stronghold while I paint, won’t he? There’s that ’Adventures of an Irish R.M.’ you’re halfway through. You can read that." He opened the door for her. "I can hear my acushlum," he said. *CHAPTER XXIV* "Aunt Kezia says she hopes to be home in a few days, and that she trusts we are all behaving ourselves, and she hopes I’m looking after Sarah, and seeing that she uses up all the crusts and bits of bread for bread-puddings and bread-crumbs, and that she doesn’t go up into Aunt Kezia’s bedroom to look out of the window at her young man—" "By Jove, I _never_ knew Aunt Kezia had a young man!" "And she hopes—" "And she might let poor Sarah just look at him—he must be a curiosity. Fancy Aunt Kezia being so jealous!" Nell put down her letter. "She gives a great deal of advice, and is very anxious, but since Denis is so frivolous I won’t tell you any more." "_I’ve_ got a letter from Tommy, and he sends his love to my snowy-breasted Pearl," observed the Atom, "and he thinks they’re comin’ home in about a week." "Oh, missansir," exclaimed Sarah, coming in to clear away the breakfast things, "let me shut the winders! You’ll catch your deaths of colds!" "Oh, it’s a lovely morning," said Nell, leaning out. "When I die, plant a shamrock o’er my corpse, Sarah," begged Denis. Sarah sighed heavily. "It’s a great responsibility me having to look after you all!" Nell put her head down on the window-sill and laughed. "Sheila Pat," said Molly, "what are you doing?" The Atom was standing, with absorbed countenance, one foot extended, balancing a pin-cushion. On her head was the slop basin. "Don’t—speak—to me!" The whisper was earnest and intense, but at that moment Kate Kearney crept up, picked off the pin-cushion, and frisked away with it. The slop basin fell with a crash. "Oh, we shall catch it," said Nell, eying the pieces. "I was tryin’ to do the balancin’ clown." On the previous Saturday Ted had appeared very casually with a box at a circus going begging. "Pity to waste it," he had observed uncomfortably. He had not explained that he had booked for that box three weeks before, and had never summoned up courage to mention it till the very day itself. They had enjoyed every moment of that circus; and Sheila Pat had striven to do many things since that she had witnessed that day. "Next time," advised Denis, from the hall, "you practise the clown, do it with sofa-cushions, Atom. It will come more economical in the end." That evening Herr Schmidt went into his bedroom, and found a small burglar walking off with the two tall candles from his toilet table. "Good evenin’," the burglar said calmly. "I’m glad you’ve come in, because now I can ask if you’ve any injection to lendin’ us your candles, Herr Schmidt." "Not at all, my dear; it is a bleasure."