On this particular evening which marked a new mental epoch for Katherine Liddell, the two companions were sitting by the fire in Miss Payne's comfortable though rather old-fashioned drawing-room, the curtains drawn, the hearth aglow, Miss Payne engaged on a large piece of patchwork which she had been employed upon for years, while Katherine read aloud to her. This was a favorite mode of passing the evening; it saved the trouble of inventing conversation--for Miss Payne was not loquacious--and it was more sympathetic than reading to one's self. Miss Payne, it need scarcely be said, had no patience with novels; biography and travels were her favorite studies; nor did she disdain history, though given to be sceptical concerning accounts of what had happened long ago. She had never been so happy and comfortable with any of her _protegees_ as with Katherine, though, as she observed to her brother, she did not expect it to last. "Stay till she is a little known, and the mothers of marriageable sons get about her; then it will be the old thing over again--dress, drive, dance, hurry-scurry from morning till night. However, I'll make the most of the present." Miss Payne, then, and her "favored guest" were cozily settled for the evening when Bertie entered. "May I present myself in a frock coat?" he asked, as he shook hands with Katherine. "I have had rather a busy day, and found myself in your neighborhood just now, so could not resist looking in." "At your usual work, I suppose," said Miss Payne, severely. "Pray have you had anything to eat?" "Yes, I assure you. I dined quite luxuriously at Bethnal Green about an hour and a half ago." "Ha! at a coffee-stall, I suppose; a cup of coffee and a ha'p'orth of bread. I must insist on your having some proper food." Miss Payne put forth her hand toward the bell as she spoke. "Do not give yourself the trouble; I really do not want anything, nor will I take anything beyond a cup of tea." Bertie drew a chair beside Katherine, asked what she was reading, and talked a little about the news of the day. Then he fell into silence, his eyes fixed on the fire, a very grave expression stilling his face. "What are you thinking of?" asked his sister. "What misery have you been steeping yourself in to-day?" "Misery indeed," he echoed. Then, meeting Katherine's eyes fixed upon him, he smiled. "Of course I see misery every day," he continued, "but I don't like to trouble you with too much of it. To-day I met with an unusually hard case, and I am going to ask you for some help toward righting it." "Tell me what you want," said Katherine. "Are you sure the story is genuine?" asked Miss Payne.