Nell rose from the hearth-rug.
"Nell," the Atom pressed close and spoke in a loud whisper, "a person can't be very goody-goo if he calls you a beast and throws a piece of cake at your nose, can he?"
"Good gracious!"
"Hush!" the Atom seized her arm, almost trembling with terror of her dignity being in danger. "I didn't say my nose, Nell! Or my beast!" incoherently.
"Of course not. Where are the matches?"
Sheila Pat took a long while over that letter. Her delicate little face downbent over the sheet of paper flushed and paled several times before it was done. Her heart and her dignity fought it out again and again. At last she evolved the following:—
"DEAR MISTER STUART
"this leter coms hopin you are wel i do not bare maliss and perhaps i was not very perlit which i regret bein a lady i hop. I therefore beg to apologise and will never menson the cak or the beest but i shud dye of rag if you tel anyone of that grate indignity with kind regards your very truly Miss Sheila Patricia Kathleen O'Brien i must be honourable and ad that this spelling is not qite all my one bein helped by Miss Eileen O'Brien."
She addressed it to "mister Stuart barclay essire," and going downstairs desired Sarah to take it next door.
Sarah was forbidden to leave the house without permission, but, in face of the Atom's tremendous weightiness, she fled.