last man to entertain any high and chivalrous ideal of
womanhood. Gladys could not forbear a smile as she answered,--

'I am afraid I am rather ignorant, Uncle Abel. I have never had occasion
to do it.'

'Never had occasion; hear her!' repeated the old man, quite as if
addressing an audience. 'She has never had any occasion. She has been
born and cradled in the lap of luxury, and I was a born fool to ask the
question.'

The desolate child felt the keenness of the sarcasm, and her eyes filled
with hot tears. 'You don't understand, Uncle Abel, you never can
understand, and there is no use trying to make you,' she said curiously.
'I think I had better call Miss Peck to get tea for us.'

'Not yet; we must settle everything, then we needn't talk any more. I am
your only relation in the world, and as I have been summoned, perhaps
unnecessarily, on this occasion, I must, and will, do my duty. I have
not taken the long and expensive journey from Scotland for nothing,
remember that. So sit down, Mary, and tell me exactly how matters stand.
How much money have you?'

The colour mounted high to the girl's white brow, and her proud mouth
quivered. Never had she so felt the degradation of her poverty! Now it
seemed more than she could bear. But she looked straight into her
uncle's unlovely countenance, and made answer, with a calmness which
surprised herself,--

'There is no money, none at all--not even enough to pay all that must be
paid.'

Abel Graham almost gasped.

'All that must be paid! And, in Heaven's name, how much is that? Try to
be practical and clear-headed, and remember I am a poor man, though
willing to do my duty.'

'Mr. Courtney and I talked of it this morning, when we arranged that the
funeral should be to-morrow,' Gladys answered in a calm, straight, even
voice, 'and we thought that there might be five pounds to pay when all
was over. Papa has some pictures at the dealers'--two in Boston, and
three, I think, in London. Perhaps there might be enough from these to
pay.'

'You have the addresses of these dealers, I hope?' said the old man,
with undisguised eagerness.

'Yes, I have the addresses.'

'Well, I shall apply to them, and put on the screw, if possible. Will
you tell me, if you please, how long you have lived in this place?'

'Oh, not long,--in this village, I mean,--only since summer. We have
been all over the fens, I think; but we have liked this place most of
all.'

'Heathens, wandering