Sir," I expostulated--for when events seem likely to prove
overwhelming, I usually find myself clutching at my original
respectability--"Sir, although the force of circumstances has brought
me thus low, I am by birth and education a gentleman. Having told
you this, I trust that you will remember it, even in the heat of your
natural resentment."

"You speak almost as prettily as you write," he answered scornfully,
pulling a letter from his pocket.

"This is beyond me," thought I; for of course I knew it could be no
letter of mine. Besides, a glance told me that I had never set eyes
on the paper or handwriting before. I think my next remark showed
self-possession. "Would you be kind enough to explain?" I asked.

"I rather think that should be your business," said he; and faith, I
allowed the justice of that contention, awkward though it was. But
he went on, "It astonishes you, I dare say, to see this letter in my
hand?"

It did. I acknowledged as much with a bow.

He began to read in an affected mimicking voice, "_My ever-loved
Kate, since your worthy but wrong-headed father_--"

"Father!" It sounded like an echo. It came from the young lady,
who had sprung forward indignantly, and was holding out a hand for
the letter. "The servants! Have you not degraded me enough?"
She stamped her foot.

The old gentleman folded up the letter again, and gave it into her
hand with a cold bow. She was handing it to me--Oh, the unfathomable
depth of woman!--when he interfered.

"For your own delectation if you will, miss; but as your protector I
must ask you not to give it back."

He turned towards me again. As he did so, I caught over his
shoulder, or fancied I caught, a glance from Miss Kate that was at
once a warning and an appeal. The next moment her eyes were bent
shamefast upon the floor. I began to divine.

Said I, "If that's a sample of your manner towards your daughter,
even you, in your cooler moments, can hardly wonder that she chooses
another protector."

"Protector!" he repeated, lifting his eyebrows; and that infernal
footman cackled again.

"If you can't behave with common politeness to a lady," I put in
smartly, "you might at least exhibit enough of rude intelligence to
lay hold of an argument that's as plain as the nose on your face!"

"Gently, my good sir!" said he. "Do you know that, if I choose, I
can march you off to jail for a common housebreaker?"

I should think I did know it--a pla