"Good! Good! That accounts for a certain want of polish. The sentences were at times crude—abrupt—rounded off carelessly. There was tautology once or twice. Good! I’m glad you told me! I like your family. Shake again! Ah, there’s Lancaster. Young man," gripping Ted’s shoulder as he passed, "I have great hopes for you! For you have made just the same beginning as I did myself many years ago." He twinkled humorously and shook hands with great heartiness. Nell thought of the little man’s reported "wildness." She had decided that it was very rude indeed of Ted not to trouble to come back to her when she was keeping his place for him. So her good night lacked warmth. But then so did his. Mr. Yovil turned to Sheila Pat; he tilted up her face and eyed her amusedly. "Have I worked you too hard, my Social Prompter?" She shook her head. "You haven’t spoken _much_ to the bathing-dress lady!" "Haven’t I? I’d sooner speak to you." "Would you? Perhaps I’ll come and see you all alone one day, shall I?" "I wish you would. And I wonder if I dare ask for a kiss?" "Your musstache looks rather prickly, I think," she hesitated. "Try it." He lifted her high in the air and kissed her. He put her down gently and turned to bid other guests good-bye. At the door the Atom looked back and waved her hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Yovil!" her voice rang out. "Don’t forget the one in the—you know—" An obvious nod at the red and white striped lady completed the sentence. When they reached Henley Road the door was opened by Herr Schmidt. "My brother won the prize, Herr Schmidt." Sheila Pat’s tone was full of decorous pride. "Ach, I am glad! Come in. Hush, your aunt sleeps—" "You weren’t sitting up for us, were you, Herr Schmidt?" Nell asked. "Nein, nein, Fräulein! I sit up late always, and I tell your aunt I will open ze door to you. You will come in and tell me about your evening, hein?" Sheila Pat’s gaiety had gone; her face looked pale and tired. Up in the Stronghold Molly lay in the arm-chair fast asleep, but Kate Kearney flew to welcome them. Nell, looking at the Atom’s weary little face, and hearing her sharp responses to Molly’s questions, cut the talk short. Molly went to bed bewildered with sleepiness and hearing that Denis’s speech hadn’t been his speech at all. To Nell he explained more fully. "It was your face, Nell! I stood there, and it had all gone—I couldn’t remember a word! Whether it was poor old Lancaster’s bad example, I don’t know. And all of a sudden I met your eyes. Oh, Nell," with a chuckle, "you did look so agonised, so beseeching! And it was exactly how you looked at me that day when the Colleen Bawn knocked that hole into her foreleg—d’you remember?—and you were trying to stop the bleeding, when I came up. Well, I’d got to stop it for you, somehow, and I did. And to-night I’d got to speak a speech, and I did." "Yes, you did." She was silent, gazing into the fire. "Poor little Atom!" she murmured softly.