Miss Kezia looked at her over her knitting. "You are feverish, and consequently restless. I conclude you would be as quiet as you could." "No, I wasn’t! I was doin’ it to worry you." Miss Kezia went on with her knitting. "Are you cross, Aunt Kezia?" "No, my dear, but I should be very glad if you could sleep a little." "I’ll try," said Sheila Pat, touched. She screwed her hot eyelids up with earnest purpose. "Aunt Kezia, did _you_ know some people want to kill theirselves?" Miss Kezia looked across at the small face peering at her, excited, shrinking. "Only a very few. It’s not a nice subject for you to think about, Sheila." "They threw theirselves down off the monnyment—right down—" "Not now. There is a—" "I know. It’s only poor people who are mad, isn’t it?" Miss Kezia hesitated. Sheila Pat was sitting up; her eyes were terrified, wretched. "Yes, my dear; they don’t know what they are doing," Miss Kezia said gently. "Lie down." The room began to grow dim. Miss Kezia knitted on in the dusk, hoping the Atom would fall asleep. Suddenly her voice, shrill, impish, rang out:— "’The ould dame sat in a stiff’-backed chair, Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, click! Sure she knitted of stockin’s sixteen pair Click-clack, click! Her face was long and her temper short Piff-pouff, piff-pouff, piff-pouff, piff! Sure she worked in bad words more than she ought Piff-pouff, piff!’" A chuckle. "Are you cross, Aunt Kezia?" "No." "_Why_ aren’t you? Don’t you think I asserve a cold?" "You were naughty and foolish, and you are paying for it, but—" after a glance at the figure sitting up in the dusk, "I am sorry for you." "I don’t _want_ you to be sorry for me!" Sheila Pat flung herself back. "’Her mouth was wide and her tongue was sharp’— Oh, go away! Go away! _Quick_—" Miss Kezia, to her own amazement, found herself obeying the strenuous voice, the note of real agony. As she hesitated outside the door she heard a sudden storm of sobs—a breathless, wild weeping, a smothered wail of woe. And she walked softly away, her face flushed, as if she had been guilty of some meanness. She stood inside her room awhile, then went back. She paused outside the door; all was silent. She turned the handle clumsily and went in. Sheila Pat lay in her bed, quiet and still; but Miss Kezia knew she was not asleep. "I’ve fetched my red wool for the border," she said, and she told the falsehood—a thing abhorred of her rigid conscientiousness—with a ringing cheerfulness. Nell came in presently with a bowl of bread and milk. The Atom sat up listlessly. "Aunt Kezia has been very patient," she said gravely. "Nell, _please_ need I have any?" She leant her head against Nell’s arm, and her fingers squeezed it lovingly. "Just a little, sweet. Has she slept at all, Aunt Kezia? "No. Perhaps she will after her bread and milk."