he keys of her scantily supplied store closet and of the
cellaret lay: there it stood on the round table near the window, with
her ink-bottle and blotting-book. She sat up and looked at it fixedly.
That little key was all that intervened between her and rest, freedom,
enjoyment. The more she recalled her uncle's words and manner on the day
he had dictated his first note to Mr. Newton, the more convinced she
felt that he had intended to provide for her, and now his intentions
would be frustrated, and the will the old man wished to suppress would
be the instrument by which his possessions would be distributed.

It was too bad. She did not know how closely the hope of her mother's
emancipation from the long hard struggle with poverty and its attendant
evils by means of Uncle Liddell's possible bequest had twined itself
round her heart. Now she could not give it up. It seemed to her that her
mental grasp refused to relax.

She rose and began to make some little arrangement for her mother's
comfort, and presently the servant came to ask if she would take some
tea.

"I'm sure, miss, you must be faint for want of food, and we are just
going to have some--the woman and me."

"What woman?"

"A very respectable person as Dr. Bilham sent in to--to attend to the
poor old gentleman, miss."

"Ah! thank you. I could not take anything now. I expect my mother soon;
then I shall be glad of some tea.

"Well, miss, you'll ring if you want me. And dear me! you ought to have
a bit of fire. I'll light one up in a minnit."

"Not till you have had your tea. I am not cold."

"You look awful bad, miss!" With this comforting assurance Mrs. Knapp
departed, leaving the door partially open.

A muffled sound, as if people were moving softly and cautiously, was
wafted to Katherine as she sat and listened: then a door closed gently;
voices murmuring in a subdued tone reached her ear, retreating as if the
speakers had gone downstairs.

Katherine went to the window. It was a wretchedly dark, drizzling
afternoon--cold too, with gusts of wind. She hoped Mr. Newton would make
her mother take a cab. It was no weather for her to stand about waiting
for an omnibus. Would the time ever come when they need not think of
pennies?

Suddenly she turned, took a key from her basket, and walked composedly
downstairs, unlocked the drawer of the writing-table, and took out her
uncle's last will and testament. Then she closed the drawer, leaving the
key in