"My awe and admiration for Sheila Pat remain as they were," he announced firmly. The Atom sat down suddenly on the floor. "Oh, the mess!" sighed Nell, "the awful mess!" "Who is it who speaks?" inquired Denis, in tragic tones. "I have no twin. In my direst need she deserted me—her one and only twin—her Irish boy—her brown-haired brother—oh, by Jove!" with a sudden shout of laughter, _"suppose Aunt Kezia were to walk in now_!" *CHAPTER XXV* Nell conned her accounts and sighed worriedly. They were in a hopeless muddle; the only clear thing about them was—the unexpectedness of the size of the total. Then she turned to Aunt Kezia’s books and her own separate account of what they were spending. Finally she took a long letter from the pocket of her pinafore, and studied it anxiously. Then she rose and went slowly downstairs to the kitchen. "What’ll you ’ave for lunch, miss?" queried Sarah. "There was some chicken left, wasn’t there?" "Nothing to speak of, miss." "You might get it up and let me see it Sarah." Sarah left the kitchen, and Nell sat on the table and studied the butcher’s account, and her brow grew puckered. "There, miss, not more’n enough for two." Nell eyed the diminutive wing and leg and bit of breast anxiously. Then she laughed. "Sarah, we’ll have it curried—with plenty of rice!" "It’ll never do, miss." "I shall be quite content with rice. It will have to do, and that’s all about it. We’re spending too much, Sarah!" "Well, miss, it’s the little things somehow. I don’t know ’ow it is, but you have such a _lot_ of extrys—pretty jim-crams I calls ’em to myself." "And the baker’s account is so much larger too, Sarah." Nell wandered over to the bread-pan and looked in. Some words in Miss Kezia’s letter were in her mind: "Keep a strict watch on the bread, and see that the stale is all used up. Servants never will trouble to do this." "Oh, Sarah, what a heap of stale bread!" "Well, miss, I can’t help it. You all like new bread. Mr. Denis said only t’other morning at breakfast when I tried to use up a bit o’ stale, ’e said, ’I _wondered_, where that old pair of shoes of mine had got to!’" Her tone was full of admiration of Denis’s wit. "But—I don’t understand—couldn’t we order less, or something?" "Oh, no, miss, sure as you did that, you’d come short." "I know! I read once of a way to make stale bread new, Sarah, and I tried it for fun, and it acted beautifully." Sarah looked sceptical. "I’ll show you with a small piece. Now let me see—first you pass it under the cold-water tap—like this—then you put it in the oven for about ten minutes." At the end of the ten minutes she brought it forth triumphantly. "Well, I never!" exclaimed Sarah, admiringly. "I must tell mother that! And oh, miss, I meant to tell you butter’s gone up tuppence, and we do use such an orful lot!" Nell sighed. "I’ve noticed we spend much more on it than Aunt Kezia did."