bout him than he suspects," said De Burgh, his dark
eyes seeking hers with a bold admiring glance.

Katherine's cheek glowed, her heart beat fast with sudden distress and
anger. De Burgh's suggestion stirred some strange and painful emotion.

"You are in a remarkably imaginative mood, Mr. De Burgh," she said,
haughtily. "I cannot see any connection between myself and your ideas."

"Can't you? Well, my ideas gather round you very often."

"I wish he would go away; he is too audacious," thought Katherine. While
she said, "I think Mr. Errington will be sorry for his father; I believe
he has good feeling, though he is so cold and quiet."

"Oh, he has every virtue under the sun! At any rate he ought to be fond
of him, for I fancy the old man has toiled all his life to be able to
leave his son a big fortune."

"Has he no brothers or sisters?"

"Two sisters, I believe, older than himself; both married."

There was another pause. Katherine would not break it. She felt
peculiarly irritated against De Burgh. His observations had greatly
disturbed her. She could not, however, tell him to go, and he stood
there looking perfectly at ease. This awkward silence was broken by the
welcome appearance of Cecil, who burst into the room, exclaiming:
"Auntie, tea is quite ready! There is beautiful chicken pie and buttered
cakes, and _such_ a beautiful cat!"

"What! for tea, Cis?" said Katherine, letting him catch her hand and try
to drag her away.

"No--o. Why, what a silly you are! Puss is asleep in an arm-chair. Do
come, auntie. The lady said I was tell you that tea was _quite_ ready."

"Which means that the audience is over," said De Burgh; "and I rather
think you are not sorry." He smiled--not a pleasant smile. "Well, young
man, did you never see me before?"--to Cecil, who was staring at him in
the deliberate, persistent way in which children gaze at objects which
fascinate yet partly frighten them.

"I was thinking you were like--" The little fellow paused.

"Like whom?"

Cis tightened his hold on his auntie's hand, and still hesitated.

"Whom is Mr. De Burgh like?" asked Katherine, amused by the boy's
earnestness.

"Like the wicked uncle in the 'Babes in the Wood.' Auntie gave it to me.
Such a beautiful picture book!"

De Burgh laughed heartily and good-humoredly. "I can tell you, my boy,
you would not find me a bad sort of uncle if it were ever my good
fortune to call you nephew."

"But I have no uncle--only aunt