"It’s four and tenpence a word to Melbourne," observed Ted, prosaically. "What shall you say?" "’Hold on to Rêve d’or shares,’ I think," Denis said. "’Don’t sell’ would be a word less," Nell suggested. "’Do not,’" Ted amended. "You mustn’t put ’don’t’ in a telegram." ’"Hold on to’ is more emphatic," Denis opined. On the way back Nell said hesitatingly:— "Denis, do you think it’ll frighten them dreadfully to get a cablegram from us?" "Only for a second, and it can’t be helped, worse luck!" "We won’t tell Molly or the Atom, will we?" "No. We’ll wait. It would drive the Atom mad to wait." "Yes." She looked as if she thought it might drive her mad, too. When she and Denis were alone in the Stronghold that night, she observed elatedly, and with considerable confidence, "And we’ll be able to manage so beautifully, because we’ve had such practice in economising lately." He nodded. "We’ll live on potatoes, old girl! I must say I prefer to economise on praties rather than on porridge." "I’ve been thinking it all out. We’ll have to be very careful, of course, but what does it matter—what does it matter? I’ll sweep and clean and groom the horses! I’ll have one dress a year—oh, Denis! Denis! I’m all in a wuzzle. I’m so happy that—" "Let’s go out! Come along. I shall burst if I don’t." "We’ll find a quiet square and _run_!" she cried. It was ten o’clock. At eleven o’clock they remembered that they would be locked out. They returned and threw small stones at Herr Schmidt’s window. He let them in. "Ach," he exclaimed, looking at Nell, "you make my dry heart glad!" *CHAPTER XXXIV* Miss Kezia entered the dining room. Molly, hastily and with a very red face, slipped the sheet of paper on which she had been writing beneath the blotting paper. She looked up, and the giggle that had started to her lips died away. "Oh! Oh, can I do anything for you, Aunt Kezia?" She jumped up and kicked over her chair. Miss Kezia replied stiffly that she required nothing from her. She looked at her thoughtfully. "I suppose it was you who put my everyday bonnet into the wrong box?" she queried. "I—oh, was it the wrong box? I—I’m very sorry—" "And it was you who sewed a black button on my glove, while the others are white, I suppose?" "I didn’t think it would matter—" "And may I ask where you have hidden my keys?" "I—I haven’t touched them!" Eagerly she seized on the small bit of relief. "I haven’t seen them." "You surprise me!" Miss Kezia said, with a strong inflexion of sarcasm in her tone. "Hadn’t you better pick up that chair?" Molly stooped and set it erect; she blinked back tears. Miss Kezia said: "You are a very peculiar girl, Molly. I should be obliged if you would leave my things alone. You puzzle me, but I understand that you mean well." Molly’s downcast face lightened. Impulsively she burst out, "Oh, thank you, aunt—_auntie_!" "I," said Miss Kezia, "object to pet names!"