"Call me what you choose," was the ungracious reply.
In the hall she found the new servant, whom she had already seen, waiting her orders. She was a stout, good-humored woman of a certain age, with vast experience, gathered in many services, and partly tempted to her present engagement by the hope that in so small a household her labor would be light.
"Will you come up, miss, and see if your room is as you like it?" was her first address. "I'm sure I am glad you have come! I've been groping in the dark, in a manner of speaking, since I came yesterday; and Mr. Liddell, he's not to be spoke to. Believe me, miss, if it wasn't that I promised your mar, and saw you was a nice young lady yourself, wild horses wouldn't keep me in such a lonesome barrack of a place!"
"I hope you will not desert us, Mrs. Knapp," returned Katherine, cheerfully. "If you and I do our best, I hope the place will not be so bad."
"Well, it didn't ought to," returned Mrs. Knapp. "There's lots of good furniture everywhere but in the kitchen, and that's just for all the world like a marine store!"
"Is it?" exclaimed Katherine, greatly puzzled by the metaphor. "At all events you have made my room nice and tidy." This conversation, commenced on the staircase, was continued in Katherine's apartment.
"It ain't bad, miss; there's plenty of room for your clothes in that big wardrobe, and there's a chest of drawers; but Lord, 'm, they smell that musty, I've stood them open all last night and this morning, but they ain't much the better. I didn't like to ask for the key of the bookcase, but I can see through the glass the books are just coated with dust," said Mrs. Knapp.
"We must manage all that by-and-by," said Katherine. "Have you anything in the house? I suppose my uncle will want some dinner."
"I gave him a filleted sole with white sauce, and a custard pudding, at two o'clock, and he said he wanted nothing more. I had no end of trouble in getting half a crown out of him, and he had the change. If the gentleman as I saw with your mar, miss, hadn't given me five shillings, I don't know where I should be."
"I will ask my uncle what he would like for dinner or supper, and come to you in the kitchen afterward."
Such was Katherine's inauguration.
She soon found ample occupation. Not a day passed without a battle over pennies and half-pennies. Liddell gave her each morning a small sum wherewith to go to market; he expected her to return straight to him and account rigidly for every farthing she had laid out, to enter all in a book which he kept, and to give him the exact change. These early expeditions into the fresh air among the busy, friendly shopkeepers soon came to be the best bit of Katherine's day, and most useful in keeping up the healthy tone of her mind. Then came a spell of reading from the Times and other papers. Every word connected with the funds and money matters generally, even such morsels of politics as effected the pulse of finance, was eagerly listened to; of other topics Mr. Liddell did not care to hear. A few letters to solicitor or stock-broker, some entries in a general account-book, and the forenoon was gone. Friends, interests, regard for life in any of its various aspects, all were nonexistent for Liddell. Money was his only thought, his sole aspiration—to accumulate, for no object. This miserliness had grown upon him since he had lost both wife and son. Fortunately for Katherine, his ideas of expenditure had been fixed by the comparatively liberal standard of his late cook. When, therefore, he found he had greater comfort at slightly less cost he was satisfied.
But his satisfaction did not prompt him to express it. His nearest approach to approval was not finding fault.
In vain Katherine endeavored to interest him in some of the subjects treated of in the papers. He was deaf to every topic that did not bear on his self-interest.
"There is a curious account here of the state of labor in Manchester and Birmingham; shall I read it to you?" asked Katherine, one morning, after she had toiled through the share list and city article. She had been about a fortnight installed in her uncle's house.
"No!" he returned; "what is labor to me? We have each our own work to do."
"But is there nothing else you would care to hear, uncle?" She had grown more accustomed to him, and he to her; in spite of herself, she was anxious to cheer his dull days—to awaken something of human feeling in the old automaton.
"Nothing! Why should I care for what does not concern me? You only care for what touches yourself; but because you are young, and your blood runs quick, many things touch you."
"Did you ever care for anything except—except—" Katherine pulled herself up. The words "your money" were on her lips.
"I cannot remember, and I do not wish to look back. I suppose, now, you would like to be driving about in a fine carriage, with a bonnet and feathers on your head. I suppose you are wishing me dead, and yourself free to run away from your daily tasks in this quiet house, to listen to the lying tongue of some soft-spoken scoundrel, as foolish women will; but the longer I live the better for you, till your mother's debt is paid, or my executors will give her a short shrift and scant time."
"I don't want you to die, Uncle Liddell," said Katherine, with simple sincerity, "but I wish there was anything I could do to interest you or amuse you. I am sorry to see you so dull. Why, you are obliged to sleep all the afternoon!"
"Amuse me?" he returned, with infinite scorn. "You need not trouble yourself. I have thoughts which occupy me of which you have no idea, and then I pass from thoughts to dreams—grand dreams!"—he paused for a moment. "Where is that pile of papers that lay on the chair there?" he resumed, sharply.
"I have taken them away upstairs; when I have collected some more I am going to sell them. My mother always sells her waste paper—one may as well have a few pence for them."
"Did you mother say so?" with some animation—then another pause. "Are you going to see her on Sunday?"
"Not next Sunday," returned Katherine, quite pleased to draw him into conversation. "You know we must let Mrs. Knapp go out every alternate Sunday, and you cannot be left alone."
"Why not? Am I an imbecile? Am I dying? I can tell you I have years of life before me yet."
"I dare say; still, it is my duty to stay here in case you want anything. But I shall go home on Saturday afternoon instead, if you have no objection."
"You would not heed my objections if I had any. You are self-willed, you are resolute. I see things when I care to look. There, I am very tired! You will find some newspapers in my room; you can add them to the others. How soon will dinner be ready?" Katherine felt herself dismissed.
The afternoons were much at her own disposal; and as she found a number of old books, some of which greatly interested her, she managed to accomplish a good deal of reading, and even did a little dreaming. Still, though time seemed to go so slowly, the weeks, on looking back, had flown fast.
The monotony was terrible; but a break was at hand which was not quite unexpected.
The day following the above conversation, Katherine had retired as usual after dinner to write to a German friend with whom she kept up a desultory correspondence; the day was warm, and her door being open, the unwonted sound of the front door-bell startled her.
"Who could it possibly be?" asked Katherine of herself. The next minute a familiar voice struck her ear, and she quickly descended to the front parlor.
There an appalling sight met her eyes. In the centre of the room, her back to the door, stood Mrs. Fred Liddell, a little boy in either hand—all three most carefully attired in their best garments, and making quite a pretty group.
Facing them, Mr. Liddell sat upright in his chair, his lean, claw-like hands grasping the arms, his eyes full of fierce astonishment.
"You see, my dear sir, as you have never invited me, I have ventured to come unasked to make your acquaintance, and to introduce my dear boys to