“Who—­who is this?” asked Mr. Liddell, compressing his thin lips and hissing out the words.

“My brother’s widow, Mrs. Fred Liddell,” returned Katherine, who was kissing and fondling her nephews.

“Did you invite her to come here?”

“No, uncle.”

“Then explain to her that I do not receive visitors, especially relations, who have no claims upon me, and—­and I particularly object to children.”

“I shall take my sister-in-law to my room for a little rest,” returned Katherine, wounded by his manner, though greatly vexed with Ada for coming.

“Ay, do, anywhere you like.”

But Mrs. Fred made a gallant attempt to stand her ground.

“My dear sir, you must not be so unkind as to turn me out, when I have taken the trouble to come all this way on purpose to make your acquaintance.  Let Katherine take away the children by all means—­some people are worried with children—­but let me stay and have a little talk with you.”

Mr. Liddell’s only reply was to rise up.  Gaunt, bent, his gray locks quivering with annoyance, and leaning on his stick, he slowly walked to the door, his eyes fixed with a cold glare on the intruder.  At the door he turned, and addressing Katherine, said, “Let me know when she is gone;” then he disappeared into the hall.

Little Charlie burst into tears.  Cecil cried out, “You are a nasty, cross old man”; while Mrs. Fred grew very red, and exclaimed:  “I never saw such a bear in all my life!  Why, a crossing-sweeper would have better manners!  I am astonished at you, Katie.  How can you live with such a creature?  But some people would do anything for money.”

“I am dreadfully sorry,” said Katherine; “do come up to my room.  If you had only told me you were coming I should have advised you against it.  You must rest a while in my room.”

“I really do not think I will sit down in this house after the way in which I have been treated,” said the irate widow, while she followed her sister-in-law upstairs.

“Oh yes, do, mammy; I want to see the house,” implored Cecil.

“Why did you not tell me what a dreadful man he is, Katherine, and I should not have put myself in the way of being insulted?”

“I think I told you enough to keep you away, Ada.  What put it into your head to come?”

“I scarcely know.  I always intended it, and Colonel Ormonde said it was my duty to let him, Mr. Liddell, see the boys.  I really did not want to come.”

“I wish Colonel Ormonde would mind his own affairs,” cried Katherine.  “I fancy he only talks for talking’s sake.”

“That is all you know,” indignantly; “he is a very clever man of the world, and I am fortunate in having such a friend to interest himself in me.”

“Oh, well, perhaps so.  At all events, I am very glad to see the bays, and—­you too, Ada.  Charlie is very pale.  Come here, Charlie.”