"All right." He glanced up from his notes with his eyebrows up, his forehead wrinkled. "T’won’t make any difference whether I go on reading up or not—it’s awful rot, anyway." "It’s grand," declared Sheila Pat, and the Pearl chattered his teeth angrily at the enthusiastic squeeze she gave him. "Don’t lose heart, Denis, it’s a fine speech," said Nell. "It’s stiff—stilted," he said, frowning. She flushed; he had put her own secret fear into words. "I’m quite sure you will get the prize," remarked Stewart, who had been invited to tea. He spoke with deep earnestness; he had an intense admiration for Denis. But Denis sat glum and gloomy while they pressed bread and butter on him, and Stewart made him a slice of French toast. Then suddenly he looked up, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, how you’re all waiting on Sir Doldrums Gloomy-grump! Look at the noble Stewart’s flushed countenance, reddened in my unworthy service! Not another word on literature! Let’s forget that such things as speeches exist!" But presently he began to laugh again:— "I’m thinking of poor old Lancaster. Saw him this afternoon—talk about gloom! He was in a vile temper! ’Pretty lot of fools we’ll look! But I deserve all I get!’ he growled, and off he marched, though I wanted to speak to him particularly!" While they were dressing, Stewart slipped away next door. He reappeared, oddly red and shy. Sheila Pat, in short white petticoat and stockinged feet, met him on the landing. "Where have you been, Tommy?" "Just home." "What’s the matter, Tommy?" "Nothing!" Sheila Pat considered him gravely. "Your face is very red." "Rot!" "And why are you keepin’ your hand behind you?" "Want to!" She made a dart, but he turned, too. Round and round they went, and she won. She was too quick and elf-like for him. "Oh!" she said. "It’s a red rose. Is it for Nell?" "No!" "Is it for me?" "If—if you like—you can have it!" "Oh, yes, please, Tommy." He held it out to her, a lovely deep red rose with a spray of maiden hair. "I’ll pin it in front of my dress, Tommy, and I’ll look so nice, won’t I? Janie and Benny Jones are comin’ to look at us when we’re dressed." "Sheila Pat! Sheila Pat!" She slipped away from him. Presently she reappeared in the Stronghold. "Tommy, _don’t_ you think—with my button-hole and all—_I might be seven_?" Stewart looked at her in her little loose, short white frock; at her long, slim legs and little white heelless shoes. "Don’t look at my _legs_!" she breathed. "Ten!" he said unblinkingly. "Oh, Tommy! I do so want to look old to-night! It’s very erportant—what I’ve got to do! And I’ll put some cakes in my pocket for you." Nell ran past the room and upstairs to see how Denis was getting on. He had lost his collar stud. She found it for him; she put it in for him; she sewed the bow on to his shoe; she rearranged his tie; helped him on with his coat, and all he said in thanks was:—