A Crooked Path. Mrs. Alexander

her little grandsons, who had more than once broken in upon her musings, came running across the grass to inform her they were sure it was tea-time, as they were very hungry.

      "Then we shall go home," said Mrs. Liddell, immediately clearing her face of its look of gloom, and rising to accompany them, cheered by the thought that perhaps Katie's dear face might be ready to welcome her.

      But neither daughter nor daughter-in-law awaited her, and a couple of hours went slowly over—slowly and wearily, for she forced herself to tell the boys a couple of thrilling tales, before they went to bed, to keep them quiet and cool. Then, with promises that both mamma and auntie should come and kiss them as soon as they returned, she dismissed the little fellows.

      It was past seven when Katherine at last appeared at the garden gate.

      "I am so glad you have come in before Ada," cried Mrs. Liddell, embracing her. "Are you very tired, dearest?"

      "No, not nearly so tired as yesterday; and, mother dear, I think that strange old man will certainly give us the money."

      "Thank God! Tell me all about your day."

      "It was all very funny, but not terrible, like yesterday. My uncle seems determined to make a cook of me. He would not let them buy or prepare any food for him, except a cup of tea and some toast, until I came. How that frail old man can exist upon so little nourishment I cannot imagine; but though I seem to give him satisfaction, he does not express any. While he and Mr. Newton talked I was sent to look at the condition of the rooms upstairs. Such a condition of dust and neglect you could not conceive. Oh, the gloom and misery of the whole house is beyond description!"

      "Did you get anything to eat yourself?" asked Mrs. Liddell.

      "Yes; Mr. Newton, who is really kind and friendly under his cool, precise exterior, sent for some cakes. He staid a good while. I think he has a good deal of influence on Mr. Liddell. (I can hardly call him uncle.) He was more polite when Mr. Newton was present. When he was going away he said, 'I am happy to say I have convinced Mr. Liddell that you are his niece, and if you and your mother will call upon me at noon to-morrow, the loan you wish for can be arranged, if you will agree to certain conditions, which I should like to explain both to you and to Mrs. Liddell.' He gave me his card. Here it is. He has written 'twelve to one' on it."

      "They must be very hard conditions if we cannot agree to them," said Mrs. Liddell, taking out her porte-monnaie and putting the card into it. "This is indeed a Godsend, Katie, dear. I am thankful you had the pluck to attack the old lion in his den."

      "Lion! Hyena rather. Yet I cannot help feeling sorry for him. Think of passing away without a soul to care whether you live or die—without one pleasant memory!"

      "His memories are anything but pleasant," returned Mrs. Liddell, gravely. "His wife, of whom I believe he was fond in his own way, left him when their only child, a son, was about ten years old. This seemed to turn his blood to gall. He took an unnatural dislike to his poor boy, and treated him so badly that he ran away to sea. Poor fellow? he used sometimes to write to your father. Their mutual dislike to John Liddell was a kind of bond between them. It is an unhappy story, for, as I told you, he was afterward killed at the gold diggings.

      "Very dreadful!" said Katherine, thoughtfully. "What a cruel visiting of the mother's sin on the unfortunate child!—that horrible bit of the decalogue! With all his icy cold selfishness Mr. Liddell is a gentleman. His voice is refined, and except when he was carried away by hi-fury against his roguish housekeeper he seems to have a certain self-respect. After Mr. Newton went away I read for a long time all the money articles in two penny papers, for the Times had been taken away. Then I wrote a couple of letters, and all my uncle said was: 'So it seems you really are my niece. Well, I hope you know more of the value of money than either your father or mother.' I could not let that pass, and said, 'My father died when I was too young to know him; but no one could manage money better nor with greater care than my mother.' He stared at me. 'I am glad to hear it,' he returned, very dryly. He had a note from his stock-broker in reply to one I wrote for him yesterday. He seemed greatly pleased with it. He kept chuckling and murmuring, 'Just in time, just in time!'"

      "Perhaps he will fancy you bring him luck."

      "I am awfully afraid he will want me to go and read to him every day, for when I was directing one of the letters he said, as though to himself, 'If she can read and write for me I need not buy a new pair of spectacles.' It would be too dreadful to be with that cynical hyena every day."

      "Oh, when he gets a good servant he will not want you."

      "I hope not."

      "Now come, you must have your supper, dear. I am sure you have earned it. We will have it quietly together before Ada comes back. I feel so relieved, I shall be able to eat now."

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

"INTO THE SHADOWS."

       Table of Contents

      To avoid Mrs. Frederic Liddell's almost screaming curiosity was not easy, and to appease it Kate assumed an air of frankness, saying that she believed Mr. Liddell merely wished to test her powers as secretary, and that she hoped she had not succeeded too well.

      "Oh, you lazy thing! You really ought to try and get in with him. Oughtn't she, Mrs. Liddell?"

      "Yes, certainly, if she can; but I fancy it will not be so easy. What are you going to do to-day, Ada?"

      "Oh, nothing"—in a rather discontented tone. "Why do you ask?"

      "Because I am obliged to go into town on a matter of business, and I want to take Katherine."

      "Well, I will look after the boys"—condescendingly, as if it were not her legitimate business. "But I really think you worry too much about those tiresome publishers. They would think more of you if you troubled them less. Your mother looks pale and fagged, Katherine."

      "Yes, she does indeed," looking anxiously at her.

      "I am afraid the publishers would leave me too utterly undisturbed if I left them alone," returned Mrs. Liddell, smiling, and leaving the suggestion uncontradicted. This conversation took place at breakfast.

      Mother and daughter made the journey cityward very silently, both a good deal occupied conjecturing what conditions John Liddell could possibly mean to impose. Perhaps only a very high rate of interest, which would cost no small effort to spare from their narrow income.

      Mr. Newton received his visitors directly their names were sent up to him. His was an eminent firm; their offices, light, clean, well furnished, an abode which impressed those who entered with the idea of fair dealing, and forbade the notion of dark dusty corners moral or physical.

      Katherine's quick eyes took in the aspect of the place: the bookshelves, where stores of legal learning in calf-bound volumes were ranged: the various brown tin boxes with names in white paint suggestive of the title-deeds "of all the land"; the big knee-hole table loaded with papers; the heavy chairs upholstered in the best leather for the patients who came to be treated; and Mr. Newton himself, more intensely cleaned up and starched than ever, in an oaken seat of mediæval form.

      He rose and set chairs for Mrs. Liddell and her daughter himself; then he rustled among his papers, and spoke down a tube.

      "Ahem!" he began. "Your brother-in-law, madam, is a man of peculiar character, but by no means without discrimination. Thank you"—to a clerk who brought in a long folded paper and laid it beside him, disappearing quickly. "By no means without discrimination," repeated Mr. Newton. "Unfortunately the love of money grows on a childless man, and his terms for the loan you require may not meet your approbation."

      "Pray what are they?" asked Mrs. Liddell.