“You come of a wasteful extravagant lot,” he said, faintly, “if you are what you represent yourself to be—­of which there is no proof whatever.  How do I know you are the daughter of Frederic Liddell?”

This was an objection Katherine had never anticipated, and knew not how to meet.  She colored vividly and hesitated; then, struck with the ghastly pallor of the old man’s face, she exclaimed, “You are ill! you are fainting!” drawing near him as she spoke.

“I am not ill,” he gasped.  “I am weak from want of food.  I have tasted none since yesterday afternoon.”

“Will you not order some?” said Katherine, looking round for a bell.

“There is nothing in the house.  That drunken robber I have just driven out went off to her revels last night and left me without anything; but while she was away a tradesman came with a bill I thought was paid, and so I discovered all her iniquity.”

“You must have something,” cried Katherine, seriously alarmed.  “Can I get you some wine or brandy?” and she rang hastily.

Mr. Liddell drew a bunch of keys from his trousers pocket, and feebly selecting one, put it in her hand, pointing to the sideboard.

The first cellaret Katherine opened was quite empty, the opposite one held two empty bottles covered with dust, and another, at the bottom of which was about a wineglass of brandy.  She sought eagerly for and found a glass, and brought it to the fainting man, pouring out a small quantity, which he sipped readily enough.  “Ah!” he said, “I was nearly gone.  I must eat.  I suppose that wretched brat can cook something.  Ring again.”  Katherine rang, and rang, but in vain.

“May I go down and see what has become of her?”

“If you please,” he murmured, more civilly than he had yet spoken.

Katherine, with increasing surprise and interest, descended the dingy stair and entered a chaotic kitchen.

Such a scene of dirt and confusion she had never beheld.  Nothing seemed fit to touch.  The little girl’s rough apron lay on the floor in the midst, and she herself was tying on a big bonnet, while a small bundle lay on a chair beside her.  She started and colored when Katherine stood in the doorway.  “Mr. Liddell has sent me to look for you.  He is very ill.  Why did you not answer the bell?”

“Because I was going away to mother,” cried the girl, bursting into tears.  “I could not stay here by myself.  Mr. Liddell is more like a wild beast than a man when he is angry, and I have had a night and a day as would frighten a policemen.  I can’t stay—­I can’t indeed, miss.”

“But you must,” said Katherine, impressively.  “I am Mr. Liddell’s niece, and at least you must do a few things for me before you go.”

“Oh! if you are here, miss, I don’t mind.  I can’t think as how you are Mr. Liddell’s niece.”

“I am, and I must not leave him till he is better.  What is your name?”