not 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 s