“What food is that?” asked Mr. Liddell.  While Newton explained, Katherine reflected with some wonder on the fact that there was a Mrs. Newton; it had never come to her knowledge before.  She tried to imagine the precise lawyer in love.  How did he propose?  Surely on paper, in the most strictly legal terms!  Could he ever have felt the divine joy and exultation which loving and being loved must create?  Had he little children? and oh! did he, could he, ever dance them on his knee?  He was a good man, she was sure, but goodness so starched and ironed was a little appalling.

These fancies lasted till the description of Revalenta Arabica was ended; then Mr. Liddell said, “Tell my niece where to get it.”  Never had he called her niece before; even Mr. Newton looked surprised.  “I will send you the address,” he said.  “And here, Miss Liddell, is the check for next week.”

“I have still some money from the last,” said Katherine, blushing.  “I had better give it to you, and then the check need not be interfered with.”  She hated to speak of money before her uncle.

“As you like.  You are a good manager, Miss Liddell.”

“Give it to me,” cried the invalid from his easy-chair; “I will put it in my bureau.  I have a few coins there, and they can go together.”

“Very well; but had not my uncle better write an acknowledgment?  We shall be puzzled about the money when we come to reckon up at the end of the month, if he does not.”

Katherine had been taught by severe experience the necessity of saving herself harmless when handling Mr. Liddell’s money.

“An acknowledgment,” repeated the old man, with a slight, sobbing, inward laugh.  “That is well thought.  Yes, by all means write it out, Mr. Newton, and I will sign.  Oh yes; I will sign!”

Newton turned to the writing-table and traced a few lines, bringing it on the blotting-pad for his client’s signature.

“I can sign steadily enough still,” said Mr. Liddell, slowly, “and my name is good for a few thousands.  Hey?”

“That it certainly is, Mr. Liddell.”

“Do you think old Fergusson could sign as steadily as that?” asked Mr. Liddell, with a slight, exulting smile.

“I should say not.  What writing of his I have seen was a terrible scrawl.”

“Hum! he wasn’t a gentleman, you know.  He drank too; not to be intoxicated, but too much—­too much!  For he will find the temperance man too many for him. I’ll win the race, the waiting race;” and he laughed again in a distressing, hysterical fashion, that quite exhausted him.

Katherine flew to fetch cold water, while the old man leaning back panting and breathless, and Mr. Newton, much alarmed, fanned him with a folded newspaper.

He gradually recovered, but complained much of the beating of his heart.  Mr. Newton wished to send for the doctor, but Mr. Liddell would not hear of it.  Then he urged his allowing the servant at least to sleep on the sofa in the front parlor, leaving the door into Mr. Liddell’s room open.  To this the object of his solicitude was also opposed, so Mr. Newton bade him farewell.  Katherine, however, waylaid him in the hall, and they held a short conference.