and she wouldn't have to part. He says it would
be worth the money. ... The lady below sings `Come back to Erin' by the
hour. She's _always_ singing it! We thought of sending a polite note
to say that we had given her request every consideration, but that owing
to the unsettled condition of politics in that country we really did not
see our way to move. ... And they have anthracite stoves."

"Why shouldn't they?" Stephen asked. He had greeted Pixie's
description with the delight of one who finds a painful situation
suddenly irradiated by humour, but the anthracite stoves conveyed no
meaning. "Why shouldn't they, if they choose?"

Pixie scowled disapproval.

"_So_ selfish! Noise like earthquakes every time they rake. I wake
every morning thinking I'm dead. This morning I counted sixty separate
rakes! Now, here's a problem for you, Mr Glynn--How can you avenge
yourself on an upstairs flatter? If it's below: it's quite easy--you
just bang with the poker; but how can you do that on your own ceiling?
'Tis no consolation to break the plaster!"

The tea was carried in as she spoke, and she rose to seat herself at the
table, giving a friendly smile at the trim maid who had replaced the
arrant "housekeeper."

"Hot scones, Moffatt? You _do_ spoil us!" she said cordially, and the
girl left the room abeam with content.

"She adores me--all maids do," announced Pixie, with her complacent air
well to the fore. "It's the way I treat them. My sister, now--Bridgie
Victor--she's a coward with her maids. She lies awake half the night
rehearsing the best ways of hinting that she'd prefer pastry lighter
than lead, after begging us all as a personal favour to eat it in case
cook should be hurt. When I have a house--" She stopped short and
busied herself with her duties, and neither of her listeners questioned
her further on the subject.

Tea was a merry meal, and Pat consumed the dainty fare with undisguised
enjoyment.

"That's the pull of an accident," he declared, as he helped himself to a
third scone, "_ye can eat_! It's awful to think of poor beggars on a
diet. ... Let's have muffins to-morrow, Pixie, _swimming_ with butter.
Glynn's coming!"

"Don't tempt me! I am coming to lunch, but you won't want me to stay
on."

"Rubbish! We _do_. Stay for the whole day, and Pixie shall sing to us.
It's the least she can do, if you take her to church."

Stephen looked at his hostess with a glance curiously compou