Ted gravely took it and examined a pair of somewhat shapeless, but plump white linen extremities stuffed with wool. "The shaftless cart! The paintless boat! The one-armed doll! The headless lady! The three-legged cat!" One after another he examined them. He was a good deal amused, but full of admiration; seeing which Nell dragged out further examples of their art. "Tell me what that is." She held up a very corpulent, grey stuffed pincushion on four legs. Ted stared uneasily. "Be careful, old chap," warned Denis, from the armchair. "It’s Nell’s pet admiration, and made by herself." "A pig?" he queried uncertainly. "Oh, ’tis the broth of a bhoy you are!" exclaimed Nell, in impulsive triumph. "Now, then, Denis! Didn’t I know all your scoffing was just jealousy?" "It’s a splendid pig!" declared Ted, with enthusiasm. "Look at its tail!" "Do English pigs grow their tails on top of their off-hind legs?" queried Denis. "No; but little Irish girls grow ’em over their left shoulders!" There was a spurt of appreciative laughter from an unwilling and would-be dignified Atom. "Look at my bear!" said Nell; "and oh, do look at Denis’s effort!" "Um! Is it an Irish animal?" "No; you know what it is, you duffer!" "An elephant, old man?" "Try again!" dimpled Nell. "A kangeroo?" "You’re getting nearer. It’s something that hops." "Hops? A lame giraffe?" He caught the cushion aimed at him by Denis. "It’s a—_robin_!" cried Nell. "Great Scott!" "What’s this?" he picked up another work of art. "That’s a needle cushion," observed Denis. "It was going to be a cat, but Molly’s broken five needles into it already! Say, Lancaster, you come over here and I’ll show you a genuine work of art as compiled and invented and built entirely by your humble servant!" "Did you really make it?" He knelt down and studied the doll’s house. "Um—might be worse!" "Four rooms," said Nell, thoughtfully. "Bedroom, kitchen, dining room, drawing-room, or nursery?" "Nursery," Denis decided. "Girls are always cranky over horrid wobbly babies!" "That’s true," said Nell. "I mean," hastily, "girls do have the sense to like nice little chubby babies, so a nursery it shall be!" Kate Kearney came pattering softly up to Ted, and stood gazing into his face. He picked her up. "What d’you want, old girl?" She lashed her tail; she wriggled her head into his shoulder; she eyed him with innocent adoration. "She’s been up to something," observed Denis. "Oh!" ejaculated Nell. "Oh, K.K.!" She held up a half-demolished grey pig. "’Oh! should you e’er meet this Kate Kearney, Who lives on the banks of Killarney, Beware of her smile, for many a wile Lies hid in the smile of Kate Kearney. Though she looks so bewitchingly simple, Yet there’s mischief in every dimple; And who dares inhale her sigh’s spicy gale, Must die by the breath of Kate Kearney,’" sang Denis. "The poor piggy inhaled her sigh this time."