"Denis, there aren't many people who—who have throwed theirselves off the monnyment, are there?"
"Bless you, no! Only one or two poor lunatics who didn't know what they were doing!"
"Perhaps it wouldn't hurt a lunytic quite so much?"
"Not it! You see, the poor things wouldn't be feeling the same as ordinary people—they'd all be dulled and heavy. Don't think of them, there's a good old Atom!"
"Denis, will you come back before you go to the bank again?"
"Why, yes, asthore! I won't be long over lunch."
The long, weary day dragged slowly on. Sheila Pat set all her hardy will to work, and succeeded in silencing her tongue. But Nell, looking at the restless little head tossing, turning, burrowing into the pillows; at the great heavy, weary eyes; wished her will were not so strong. She was sure it would be better for the Atom to give way and cry her cry out. The puzzled look that she met again and again in her eyes, the seeking, despairing expression, wrung her heart. She knew that the poor Atom could not understand; that she was at war with Providence in a vague, bewildered way, and that she was heartsick for her country.
Nell refused to leave her; but at last, in the afternoon, Miss Kezia, with strong common sense, put matters before her, and Nell went for a little walk with Molly. Miss Kezia betook herself and her knitting to the Atom's room. The Atom was lying with all the bedclothes off and trailing on the floor. Miss Kezia put them on again in silence. Sudden wicked feverish battle leapt to the Atom's eyes. Directly Miss Kezia had sat down she kicked them off again. Miss Kezia rose and rearranged them. When this had taken place four times, Sheila Pat lay exhausted and breathing hard, but in her eyes there still lurked battle.
"Please will you fetch my Pearl?" She watched triumphantly. "If you don't, I'll go and fetch him myself."
Miss Kezia hesitated.