She went farther. She asked Sheila Pat for information anent St. Patrick. Unfortunately Sheila Pat started with the little item of his having swum across the Shannon with his head in his mouth. Miss Kezia remonstrated. She pointed out the impossibility of his performing such a feat. Sheila Pat waxed indignant. She explained scornfully that anything was possible to St. Patrick, and that, moreover, his being in Ireland at the time had a great deal to do with his wonderful cleverness. Miss Kezia argued that it would have been nothing more or less than a miracle. Sheila Pat retorted, "And why not?" Miss Kezia was shocked. A long and hot discussion followed, of which the Atom had the last word. She said:— "Why, you can’t know _any*thing! You don’t even know what Ireland’s *like_! You’re just a hignoramus!" Miss Kezia was angry. She was also genuinely worried. It was not the first time that her young relatives by marriage had worried her active conscience from a religious point of view. Their stories of fairies and legends and miracles seemed, to her stern narrowness, profane. In the course of her argument with Sheila Pat, the Atom had observed that she thought it must be very nice for God to have St. Patrick for a companion. The remark had left Miss Kezia gasping. Left alone with the rude epithet of hignoramus hovering scornfully in the air, Miss Kezia sought to arrange the chaos in her mind. She was still forming sound arguments to be used with effect on a future occasion, when she heard the O’Briens going out. She went to the window and received several further shocks. In the first place Denis was with the others, when he should have been at the bank. In the second, third, and fourth places, their costumes were most unseemly. To Miss Kezia they appeared to be composed chiefly of shamrock and green ribbon. In the fifth place Kate Kearney, all unchidden, was dividing her energies in a vain attempt to rid herself of her bow, between the mud heap at the side of the road and Miss Kezia’s spotless door-steps. Miss Kezia flung open the window, and called out:— "Ridiculous! I won’t have it! Denis, why aren’t you at the bank? My steps!" Denis waved an airy farewell with his shillelagh. "Bank?" His voice was amazed. "It’s a holiday, of course! Told them I shouldn’t be there!" "You are not to—" Miss Kezia’s voice died away. She recognised the uselessness of calling injunctions after fast-disappearing and obviously obstinate backs.