They waltzed out on to the landing and down the stairs, improvising fancy steps to a tune Denis carolled out as they went. Into the kitchen they came, round the table they danced, while Sarah gaped.
"Bet I can do an Irish jig on the garden wall!" declared Denis suddenly.
"So can I!"
It was in the height of the jig that Miss Kezia and a friend who was paying her an afternoon call looked forth into the garden. All along, back windows were up, and heads looking out. For Denis had a beautiful voice and he sang as he danced—rather spasmodically, as one foot and then the other landed on space instead of the wall, but very heartily.
Miss Kezia's friend was a somewhat prim and stiff-necked matron, and she was a good deal scandalised. Miss Kezia was considerably annoyed; but before she could open the window, the jig stopped abruptly, Denis leapt from the wall and after him Nell, and both started in chase of a small figure which had come out into the garden and defied them to catch it.
Mysterious shopping expeditions took place about this time. The Atom, not allowed to go out alone, chose Sarah as her escort while she purchased Christmas presents. Miss Kezia unexpectedly gave her sanction to the arrangement. A queer sort of mutual recognition of worth had grown up between the Atom and Miss Kezia. Sheila Pat discussed her gravely with Nell.
"I do think she's worthy, Nell. Sarah says she is, and she says she wouldn't leave here because you never know what you might get. She's very just, you see. Some mistresses are awful; they blame you for things like the taps leakin' and the chimney smokin', when they're cross. Aunt Kezia never does. I think she's rather nice to talk to sometimes," thoughtfully, "and she's very honest—she told me she was always quite ugly, and she's got some beautiful animals all worked in silk that her mother did when she was quite young, and you see, she can't help bein' borned Scotch!"
On her part Miss Kezia went so far as, "I do not understand Sheila, but there is a solid layer of goodness beneath her eccentricities." The truth was, Miss Kezia, angry, bewildered, worried, as she so often was in these days, nevertheless found an unexpected partiality developing within her for the young O'Briens,—an unexpected recognition of their charm.
What with finishing presents, buying them, packing up the hospital toys, and fighting various little imps who whispered things about this time last year, they found those days before Christmas pretty full.
One evening some carollers came and sang lustily in the road outside the house. As they began, the front door was opened and Miss Kezia's grim voice bade them begone. But upstairs there was a wild scamper to a bedroom window—it was flung up—and pennies came hurtling through the air—"Go on! Please, go on!" and voices at the window joined lustily in. For the song the carollers sang was "Rory O'More."