"Ze funny little child!" he chuckled, "ze very funny little child." He took off his spectacles, rubbed them with a gigantic handkerchief, and said, "Ach, I forget!" He fumbled in his coat-tail pocket; he dragged forth a limp and very much sat upon brown-paper parcel. He eyed it proudly. "Ach, zat is why I zink her so nice for a bed! See, I sit on her, but it does not matter!" "Great Scott!" ejaculated Denis in Nell’s ear. Herr Schmidt handed the parcel to Sheila Pat. He stood watching, beaming at her over his spectacles. Sheila Pat pulled off the paper; she gave a little gasp. There was a tense silence. The present was a baby doll—a rag baby doll. Nell quavered desperately, "What a fine colour it has!" And she averted her eyes hastily from the horrible, crimson-dabbed cheeks. "You like her, little one?" Herr Schmidt’s tone was anxious. "Thank you," said Sheila Pat, in a subdued little voice. She stared fixedly into the fire, her head averted from the Thing in her lap. "Ach, I zink berhaps she does not like it?" Herr Schmidt whispered loudly to Nell. "And I zink it so sweet!" "She is tired. She has had too many visitors. It was so awfully kind of you to bring it for her, Herr Schmidt. I want her to go to sleep now." Sweetly Nell sped his departure. When he had gone, Sheila Pat, still with averted head, dropped her knee till the doll slid to the floor. She looked up at Nell, outraged dignity in every feature. "Please take the—carrion thing—away!" And to Kate Kearney she presently whispered:— "Oh, K.K., he’s never forgotten! He thinks I’m a baby! And it’s all that petticoat! I knew it!" *CHAPTER XXXI* These came a morning when Miss Kezia breakfasted in angry state, alone. At eight o’clock she sat down, as usual, to the table. With down-drawn lip she filled the five cups with coffee, then started on her porridge. Every now and then her eye glanced at the four bowls of porridge with their rapidly lessening issue of steam. From overhead there came, at intervals, the banging of a door, the rush of footsteps from one room to another, a burst of laughter now and then. Miss Kezia went on with her breakfast. Once Sarah knocked timidly, and, with a scared face, dared the whispered suggestion that she should take the porridge "to keep it hot." Her courage failed before ever Miss Kezia’s grim lips had begun to frame an answer, and she fled back to the refuge of the kitchen. From above came Denis’s voice, jubilant, a musical shout of joy. "’Miss Judy O’Connor, she lived forninst me And tinder words to her I wrote—’ "I say, Nell, did I leave my towels in your room?" Down came Miss Kezia’s upper lip. From above:— "A stud is an animate article, possessing the human attributes of legs and devilment—got him, by Jove! Now thin ye young devil, is it hidin’ from me, indeed! I’ll be teachin’ ye a lesson—" "Denis, _have_ you seen my hair-ribbon?"