Whereupon Miss Kezia was wroth on three counts: his being so absurd as to have gone to the corner; his going with no coat or hat on; and his singing in that disgraceful manner at that time of night in the streets. Poor Denis! He had been used to sing always when he felt inclined at Kilbrannan. Nell had often listened with delight to his voice as it rang and echoed amongst their beloved hills. She had often joined in, too.
All his excuse now was—"It's such a glorious moonlight night!" And he went up unabashed to Nell. She was standing staring thoughtfully into the fire.
"Denis," she said slowly, "all he could find to say good about his father was that he 'gives him a jolly good allowance!'"
"Yes, poor beggar."
Silence.
"Denis, he seemed to enjoy it all so!"
"Yes."
Longer pause. Then, tragically:—
"Denis, he—doesn't hang out a Christmas stocking!"
CHAPTER XVI