hat."

"Ah, indeed!" returned Mr. Liddell, thoughtfully.

"I have been explaining to Mr. Liddell," said the lawyer, turning to
Katherine, "that it would be well to let me give you the house-keeping
money for the present, so that he need not be troubled about anything
except to get well; and when well, my dear sir, you really must go out.
Fresh air--"

"Fresh fiddle-sticks," interrupted the old man; "I have been well for
years without going out, and I'll not begin now. I'll give in to
everything else; only, if _I_ am obliged to take costly food as a
medicine, I expect the rest of the household to live as carefully as
ever."

"I shall do my best, uncle," said Katherine, softly.

After a little more conversation the lawyer took his leave, and then
Katherine applied herself to read the papers which had been neglected.

It was not till toward evening she was able to write a few lines to her
mother describing Mr. Liddell's illness, and begging she would come to
see her on Saturday, as she (Katherine) could not absent herself while
her uncle was so unwell.

After this things went on much as usual, only Mr. Liddell never resumed
his habits of early rising; he was a shade less cold too, though at
times terribly irritable.

He took the food prepared for him obediently enough, but with evident
want of appetite, rarely finishing what was provided.

Mr. Newton generally called every week, and Katherine wrote to him
besides; she was strict in insisting on the audit of her accounts, which
the accurate lawyer sometimes praised. By judicious accounts of
Fergusson, the other surviving member of the Tontine, he managed to keep
his client in tolerable order. Katherine, though grateful to him for his
friendly help, little knew how strenuously he strove to lengthen the old
miser's days, hoping he would make some provision for his niece, while
he dared not offer any suggestion on the subject, lest it should
produce an effect contrary to what he desired.

Mrs. Fred Liddell was bitterly disappointed by the result of her visit
to the rich uncle. A good deal, indeed, hung upon it. A wealthy
succession was certainly a thing to be devoutly wished for in itself,
but the sharp little widow felt that provision for her boys and a dowry
for herself meant marriage, _if_ she chose, with Colonel Ormonde.

And she very decidedly did wish it. Her imagination, which was vivid
enough of its kind, was captivated by the Colonel's imposing "bow-wow