Here her little grandsons, who had more than once broken in upon her musings, came running across the grass to inform her they were sure it was tea-time, as they were very hungry.

“Then we shall go home,” said Mrs. Liddell, immediately clearing her face of its look of gloom, and rising to accompany them, cheered by the thought that perhaps Katie’s dear face might be ready to welcome her.

But neither daughter nor daughter-in-law awaited her, and a couple of hours went slowly over—­slowly and wearily, for she forced herself to tell the boys a couple of thrilling tales, before they went to bed, to keep them quiet and cool.  Then, with promises that both mamma and auntie should come and kiss them as soon as they returned, she dismissed the little fellows.

It was past seven when Katherine at last appeared at the garden gate.

“I am so glad you have come in before Ada,” cried Mrs. Liddell, embracing her.  “Are you very tired, dearest?”

“No, not nearly so tired as yesterday; and, mother dear, I think that strange old man will certainly give us the money.”

“Thank God!  Tell me all about your day.”

“It was all very funny, but not terrible, like yesterday.  My uncle seems determined to make a cook of me.  He would not let them buy or prepare any food for him, except a cup of tea and some toast, until I came.  How that frail old man can exist upon so little nourishment I cannot imagine; but though I seem to give him satisfaction, he does not express any.  While he and Mr. Newton talked I was sent to look at the condition of the rooms upstairs.  Such a condition of dust and neglect you could not conceive.  Oh, the gloom and misery of the whole house is beyond description!”

“Did you get anything to eat yourself?” asked Mrs. Liddell.

“Yes; Mr. Newton, who is really kind and friendly under his cool, precise exterior, sent for some cakes.  He staid a good while.  I think he has a good deal of influence on Mr. Liddell. (I can hardly call him uncle.) He was more polite when Mr. Newton was present.  When he was going away he said, ’I am happy to say I have convinced Mr. Liddell that you are his niece, and if you and your mother will call upon me at noon to-morrow, the loan you wish for can be arranged, if you will agree to certain conditions, which I should like to explain both to you and to Mrs. Liddell.’  He gave me his card.  Here it is.  He has written ’twelve to one’ on it.”

“They must be very hard conditions if we cannot 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!”