“He really ought not to be left alone at night.”

“No, he must not,” said Katherine.  “I will make our servant spend the night in the parlor.  She can easily open the door after the lights are out, without his being vexed by knowing she is there.  I could not sleep if I thought he was alone.  I will come very early in the morning to relieve her.”

“Do, my dear young lady.  I will call on the doctor and beg him to come round early.”

“Do you think my uncle so ill, then?”

“He is greatly changed, and his weakness makes me uneasy.  I trust in God he may be spared a little longer.”

Katherine looked and felt surprised at the fervor of his tone.  Little did she dream the real source of the friendly lawyer’s anxiety to prolong a very profitless existence.

After a few more remarks and a promise to come at any time if he were needed, Mr. Newton departed; and Katherine got through the dreary evening as best she could.

How she longed to summon her mother! but she feared to irritate her uncle, who was evidently unequal to bear the slightest agitation.

Next day was unusually cold, and though Mr. Liddell had passed a tranquil night, he seemed averse to leave his bed.  He lay there very quietly, and listened to the papers being read, and it was late in the afternoon before he would get up and dress.  From this time forward he rarely rose till dusk, and it grew more and more an effort to him.  He was always pleased to see Mr. Newton, and to converse a little with him.  He even spoke with tolerable civility to Mrs. Liddell when she came to see her daughter.

As the weather grew colder—­and autumn that year was very wintry—­he objected more and more to leave his bed, and at last came to sitting up only for a couple of hours in the chair by his bedroom fire.  It was during one of these intervals that Katherine, who had been racking her brains for something to talk of that would interest him, bethought her of a transaction in old newspapers which Mrs. Knapp had brought to a satisfactory conclusion.  She therefore took out “certain moneys” from her purse.

“We have sold the newspapers at last, uncle,” she said.  “I kept back some for our own use, so all I could get was a shilling and three half-pence.”  She placed the coins on a little table which stood by his arm-chair, adding, “I suppose you know the Scotch saying, ’Many mickles make a muckle’; even a few pence are better than a pile of useless papers.”

“I know,” said Liddell, with feeble eagerness, clutching the money and transferring it to his little old purse.  “It is a good saving—­a wise saying.  I did not think you knew it; but—­but why did you keep back any?”

“Because one always needs waste paper in a house, to light fires and cover things from dust.  I shall collect more next time,” she added, seeing the old man was pleased with the idea.

He made no reply, but sat gazing at the red coals, his lips moving slightly, and the purse still in his hand.  Again he opened it, and took out the coins she had given him, holding them to the fire-light in the hollow of his thin hand.