"I’m not tired, Denis O’Brien! A person has things to think about sometimes!" "Hulloa, thought you were asleep!" The Atom struggled to get off his knee, but he held her fast. "Please let me go, Denis!" "You’re not angry with your one and only brother, Sheila Pat?" "You shouldn’t be sayin’ rude things," she wavered. She adored Denis so deeply that she could never hold out long against him. "It was all her fault to-day, anyway," declared Molly. "She just _wouldn’t_ settle down to anything!" "Couldn’t," murmured Nell, with a glance at Sheila Pat’s great eyes. Denis suddenly began to laugh. "It was awful sport this afternoon! Lancaster came to the bank. Old Tellbridge and Jackson were out, and we got fooling around. I was standing on a chair spouting that thing I made up—you know— "’Now Micky Magee wi’ his piggy so wee Went courtin’ the fair Molly Moore—’ "Remember? Well, I put a lot of expression and action into it—chaps were roaring, and as I finished, out from the manager’s room burst that little chap—Mark Yovil! Wasn’t it killing? He had heard it all! Owned he’d been listening. And he’s quite struck!" He gave a shout of laughter. "He is, ’pon my word! He says my voice is made for reading aloud and reciting! I feel like a little saintly chorister or something. Lancaster and I have promised to go to his place next Tuesday. They’re going to start on Henry V,’ and I’m to be Hal himself! _Now_ what do you think of your twin, Nell?" "That he’s getting so puffed up that soon all that remains of him will be a farewell pop—oh—" Along the passages her fleeing voice echoed, "I haven’t any run—left in me—_oh_, Denis!" *CHAPTER VII* It was a damp close day. Nell felt stifled and cross, and was ashamed of the feeling. The deep depression that sometimes seized upon her held her now. The longing for her home gripped her in a sudden fresh access of misery. She sat on her bed and tortured herself by imagining strangers in all the rooms—about the grounds. As she always did, in these depressions, she lost sight of the fact that her home was let and not sold. She told herself they had not a home now. She said that they were outcasts, and would never set foot in Ireland again. She wondered keenly why they did not all die. Turned out of home and country; father and mother hundreds of miles away; poor and desolate, why did they continue to live? And laugh! She was quite sure just then that she would never laugh again. She rose to make her bed. The depth of her depression had a physical effect, making the mere folding of her nightgown an act that required a strong effort. At Kilbrannan no weather had affected her beautiful young health and strength. She did not realise that the sudden and tremendous change in her way of living was bound to tell on her, more or less, at first. She made her bed languidly. When Molly burst into the room she actually jumped.