“Don’t praise me, Mr. Newton,” said Katherine, sharply.  “Could you see me as I see myself, you would know how little I deserve it.”

“I am sure I should know nothing of the kind,” returned the old lawyer, smiling.  Katherine was a prime favorite with him—­quite his ideal of a charming and admirable woman.  All he hoped was that when the sharp edge of her grief had worn off she would mix in society and marry some highly placed man worthy of her, a Q.C., if one young enough could be found, who was on the direct road to the woolsack.

The evening of this day Bertie Payne came in, as he often did after dinner.  Katherine was always pleased to see him.  He brought a breath of genial life into the rather glacial atmosphere of Miss Payne’s drawing-room.  Yet there was something soothing to Katherine in the orderly quiet of the house, in the conviction, springing from she knew not what, that Miss Payne liked her heartily in her steady, undemonstrative fashion.  She never interfered with Katherine in any way; she was ready to go with her when asked, or to let her young guest go on her own business alone and unquestioned, while she saw to her comfort, and proved much more companionable than Katherine expected.

On this particular evening which marked a new mental epoch for Katherine Liddell, the two companions were sitting by the fire in Miss Payne’s comfortable though rather old-fashioned drawing-room, the curtains drawn, the hearth aglow, Miss Payne engaged on a large piece of patchwork which she had been employed upon for years, while Katherine read aloud to her.  This was a favorite mode of passing the evening; it saved the trouble of inventing conversation—­for Miss Payne was not loquacious—­and it was more sympathetic than reading to one’s self.  Miss Payne, it need scarcely be said, had no patience with novels; biography and travels were her favorite studies; nor did she disdain history, though given to be sceptical concerning accounts of what had happened long ago.  She had never been so happy and comfortable with any of her protegees as with Katherine, though, as she observed to her brother, she did not expect it to last.  “Stay till she is a little known, and the mothers of marriageable sons get about her; then it will be the old thing over again—­dress, drive, dance, hurry-scurry from morning till night.  However, I’ll make the most of the present.”

Miss Payne, then, and her “favored guest” were cozily settled for the evening when Bertie entered.

“May I present myself in a frock coat?” he asked, as he shook hands with Katherine.  “I have had rather a busy day, and found myself in your neighborhood just now, so could not resist looking in.”

“At your usual work, I suppose,” said Miss Payne, severely.  “Pray have you had anything to eat?”

“Yes, I assure you.  I dined quite luxuriously at Bethnal Green about an hour and a half ago.”

“Ha! at a coffee-stall, I suppose; a cup of coffee and a ha’p’orth of bread.  I must insist on your having some proper food.”  Miss Payne put forth her hand toward the bell as she spoke.