She walked from the room, leaving a scarlet and abashed niece behind her. She went into Herr Schmidt’s room to see that Sarah had dusted it thoroughly. She found Sheila Pat sitting at the table, with paper, pens, and ink of Herr Schmidt’s before her. "What are you doing in here, Sheila?" "Writin’ a private letter," said Sheila Pat. "Take it up into your room! You have no business in here at all." "Has," said Sheila Pat, in very judicial tones, "has Herr Schmidt ever told you that you’re like a little sunbeam in his room, and just as welcome?" Miss Kezia seemed a little disconcerted. "N-no," she said. "Then you’d better go," the Atom observed. "He’s said that to me." She bent over her writing. Miss Kezia came closer. "Please," said Sheila Pat, "don’t read what I’m writin’. It’s very private." "May I ask," said Miss Kezia, "if Herr Schmidt has also given you permission to use his writing materials and paper?" "He hasn’t given me _permission_," said Sheila Pat; "he asked me to do him the _honour_ of placin’ them at my disposal." It sounded very grand. Miss Kezia left the room. She went upstairs to the Stronghold to speak to Nell. Nell was seated at the table, writing. She started up guiltily as Miss Kezia entered the room. "You all appear to be very busy writing this morning," Miss Kezia said crossly. For some reason or other this seemed to amuse Nell considerably. She began to laugh. "Oh, are they writing, too? I wonder—" She broke off, and went on laughing. "Eileen, I am constantly obliged to chide you for your frivolity. You laugh at nothing; or, at least, I can see no cause for laughter?" There was a pronounced query at the end of her sentence. Nell strove to answer it. "Well, you see—you see—we’re writing—private letters—at least, I am, and now you say—so I suppose they are, too—you see—oh, I c-c-can’t help it, it’s s-so f-f-funny!" Miss Kezia gave the message she had come to deliver; she gave it in an austere voice, and with a face of disgust. The she went. "Oh, I’m a w-worm!" Nell chuckled, crawling beneath the sofa to speak to James. "But, oh, Jimmy, I feel all mad these days! If—if it comes to nothing—but it won’t! it won’t! Oh, Jimmy!" The next morning was bright and sunny, with a gladness in the air, a song of spring. It was the first of April, and even in London it was a glorious day. "I won’t even _think_ the thought, ’What it would be like at Kilbrannan,’" Nell declared to Denis, when she met him on her way down to breakfast, "because—shan’t we soon be there?" She broke out singing:— "’There blooms a bonny flower, Up the heather glen; Tho’ bright in sun, in shower ’Tis just as bright again. I never can pass by it, I never dar’ go nigh it, My heart it won’t be quiet, Up the heather glen. Sing O, the blooming heather! O, the heather glen! Where fairest fairies gather To lure in mortal men—’"