Ted looked up earnestly, his brush pausing:— "You must let us do it—O’Brien and me—every week, Miss O’Brien; our arms are stronger." "I," said the Atom, weightily, "think you are a very nice boy." "And I think you are a very nice lit—young lady." "I’ll show you my snowy-breasted Pearl afterwards." "Eh? Oh, thanks." "He’s very sensertive; you mustn’t mind if he bites you a little." "Oh, I’ll like it. So your white-breasted Pearl’s a boy, is he?" "I’ll essplain to you about his name another time," she said with great dignity. She came closer, and whispered: "Denis calls him somethin’ else. I’m ’fraid he might do it now. Promise you’ll never, _never_ ask him what he calls my Pearl!" He looked surprised into the beseeching face. "All right," he said gently, "I’ll never ask him." "Thank you." She dusted a table leg in silence. "You are English, aren’t you?" she said then. He nodded. "Perhaps you’ve lived years and years in Ireland?" "No." "Perhaps you’ve lived a little while there?" He was looking amused. "No." "Perhaps you’ve stayed for _heaps_ of visits there?" "No." "Perhaps you’ve stayed for just a _few little_ visits?" "No." Sheila Pat stared in disappointed wonder. "Haven’t you ever been there at _all_?" "Never set foot in it." "Oh!" Presently, "Well, you’re not at all bad—_for England_." "England," quoth he, gravely, "is the finest country in the world!" The Atom’s eyes and mouth opened incredulously; a swift rush of delicate pink dyed her face. "You—you’re forgettin’ Ireland!" she gasped. "Not at all. I believe Ireland’s a very decent little place." "Decent, is it?"—the Atom forgot her dusting—"I’m just s’prised a big boy like you should be such a—a _hignoramous_!" She waited proudly, then pursued, her voice trembling with earnestness: "You’re all the same—you English! You’re jealous of us! You—oh, you’re all stupid donkeys!" It was a downfall from eloquence to rude vituperation. But she was, for the moment, beyond realisation of that. She stood waiting, her eyes shining. But interruption, in the form of Miss Kezia, broke in on Ted’s answer, and the discussion had to be postponed for the present. Miss Kezia was somewhat amused, in a dry sort of way, at their room-cleaning. She shrugged her shoulders over it; if they liked to amuse themselves that way, it did no harm, and work never yet hurt anyone. She asked Ted to stay to luncheon, and he accepted. He seemed to enjoy the roast beef and jam roly pudding. He talked courteously to Miss Kezia, he skirmished with the Atom, but he avoided Nell’s eyes. Nell seemed absent-minded, sunk in thought. After luncheon in the hall she seized an opportunity and approached him. "I—I want to beg your pardon," she said stiffly, "for—for that night—"