The day following the above conversation, Katherine had retired as usual after dinner to write to a German friend with whom she kept up a desultory correspondence; the day was warm, and her door being open, the unwonted sound of the front door-bell startled her. "Who could it possibly be?" asked Katherine of herself. The next minute a familiar voice struck her ear, and she quickly descended to the front parlor. There an appalling sight met her eyes. In the centre of the room, her back to the door, stood Mrs. Fred Liddell, a little boy in either hand--all three most carefully attired in their best garments, and making quite a pretty group. Facing them, Mr. Liddell sat upright in his chair, his lean, claw-like hands grasping the arms, his eyes full of fierce astonishment. "You see, my dear sir, as you have never invited me, I have ventured to come unasked to make your acquaintance, and to introduce my dear boys to you; for it is possible you have sent me a message by Katherine which she has forgotten to deliver; so I thought--" Thus far the pretty little widow had proceeded when the children, catching sight of their auntie, sprang upon her with a cry of delight. "Who--who is this?" asked Mr. Liddell, compressing his thin lips and hissing out the words. "My brother's widow, Mrs. Fred Liddell," returned Katherine, who was kissing and fondling her nephews. "Did you invite her to come here?" "No, uncle." "Then explain to her that I do not receive visitors, especially relations, who have no claims upon me, and--and I particularly object to children." "I shall take my sister-in-law to my room for a little rest," returned Katherine, wounded by his manner, though greatly vexed with Ada for coming. "Ay, do, anywhere you like." But Mrs. Fred made a gallant attempt to stand her ground. "My dear sir, you must not be so unkind as to turn me out, when I have taken the trouble to come all this way on purpose to make your acquaintance. Let Katherine take away the children by all means--some people _are_ worried with children--but let _me_ stay and have a little talk with you." Mr. Liddell's only reply was to rise up. Gaunt, bent, his gray locks quivering with annoyance, and leaning on his stick, he slowly walked to the door, his eyes fixed with a cold glare on the intruder. At the door he turned, and addressing Katherine, said, "Let me know when she is gone;" then he disappeared into the hall. Little Charlie burst into tears. Cecil cried out, "You are a nasty, cross old man"; while Mrs. Fred grew very red, and exclaimed: "I never saw such a bear in all my life! Why, a crossing-sweeper would have better manners! I am astonished at you, Katie. How can you live with such a creature? But _some_ people would do anything for money." "I am dreadfully sorry," said Katherine; "do come up to my room. If you had only told me you were coming I should have advised you against it. You must rest a while in my room."