"I can see it’s all rubbish almost as I write it. No, Nell, you’ll have to give us back Kilbrannan, alone!" "I won’t, Denis! You know you’re much too conceited to let me do it. Mustn’t you have your finger in every pie? And don’t speak as if it isn’t ours still! It’s only let—" "So it is!" He seized her round her waist. "We’ll do it together—you and I—turn ’em out—buy back all the horses—and meanwhile—meanwhile, we’ll economise like a couple of German Jews!" She looked at the jar of great golden chrysanthemums, at a large box of Fuller’s chocolates he had brought them that day, and at her account-book where the money seemed to run away so mysteriously. "Oh," quoth Denis, "it isn’t the things like that that use up the money; it’s the little things—copper here, copper there; ’Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves,’ you know. That’s sound commercial sense." "Is it?" said Nell. "It _sounds_ all right." "It’s as right as your hand which isn’t your left. I’m going to put out the lamp." *CHAPTER IV* "Sarah," said Sheila Pat, "who’s in the drawing-room?" "Mrs. Barclay, miss." "Oh!" said Sheila Pat. "Bread and butter—cakes—best milk jug—smallest spoons—that’s right." Sarah’s muttering ended with a sigh of relief. "Sarah, are you very busy?" "I’ve took the things up, miss, and now I’ve got to wash up the dinner things." "Sarah," wheedlingly, "let me help you." "Oh, no, miss, certainly not, and you oughter be upstairs, too." "I don’t wish to be there," with dignity settling herself on the table. "Sarah, haven’t you any silver to clean now? I do like cleaning silver." "Oh, no, miss, and you’re making yourself dirty and all!" A pause, while Sarah bustled about and the Atom watched her. "Sarah," sternly issued the small voice, "I inquest you to give me some work _at once_!" "Oh—oh, certingly, miss, yes, miss." Sarah, in a flurry, routed out some shining pots and pans and gave them to the Atom to dust. Sheila Pat took them and examined them carefully. There was a long silence, while Sarah made up the fire and left the room to fill the coal box. When she returned she saw the Atom sitting in stiff idleness beside her pots and pans. "What, done them already, miss! Well, you _’ave_ been quick; and how nice and bright you’ve made them look, to be sure!" The Atom fixed her with a stony eye. "I haven’t touched them," said she. Sarah collapsed in dire confusion. "I may wear short dresses," resumed the Atom, coldly, "my fam’ly is resisting about that,—but I am not a _baby_, Sarah Jane Jones." Meekly and in awe, Sarah provided her with real work in the drying of cups and saucers and plates. The Atom unbent over her rubbing. "Have you any brothers, Sarah?" "Yes, miss, two." "How old are they?" "One’s three and t’other four and a ’alf, miss." "Have you any sisters, Sarah?" "Yes, miss, three." "How old are they?"