He reassured her, and then they sat down to the meal. The rain had begun and was blowing against the windows. Kingcote ate little; his sister only drank a cup of tea. “This is not the kind of food you need,” he said. “I must ask you to do as I wish for a time, and have care for yourself. Have you any servant?” She shook her head. “But you can’t possibly do house-work at present.” There was something a little dictatorial in Kingcote’s way of speaking; a mere habit, but one which Mary knew of old, and which half accounted for her timorous regard of him. “Mrs. Bolt has been so kind,” she said, “when I really wasn’t able to do things.” “Yes; but we cannot trouble her. What, by-the-bye, are the terms on which you hold these rooms?” “From quarter to quarter. We pay twenty-five pounds a year, and have to give a quarter’s notice.” “Then it is impossible to remove till the end of June? I’m very sorry for that.” “Mrs. Bolt might take things into account, and let us----” “No, certainly not,” said her brother abruptly. “But I think I shall pay her the quarter and go as soon as I can find another place.” (Mrs. Bolt, be it observed, had her ear to the keyhole, and lost not a word of the conversation.) “Don’t you think you could find some girl to come and act as servant for a time?” “Yes; I could. There’s a girl I used to have sometimes; I think she could come.” “Then let her be summoned as soon as possible; and, by-the-bye, has Mrs. Bolt been at any expense, do you think?” “I’m afraid she has for a few things.” “Very well. If you happen to see her, will you ask her to let me have an account of all such expenses as soon as she can?” After the meal, Mary went upstairs and fetched the children. They were boys of eight and seven respectively, thin and ill-fed little beings, poorly dressed. Both of them cried as their mother brought them forward; this uncle was in their eyes a most formidable person. Kingcote could not be affectionate with children, but he spoke to them with as much kindness as was at his command. Whilst he was talking with the elder, the other climbed to Mary’s lap and whispered something. Kingcote caught the words “bread and butter.” “What’s that, Willy?” he asked. “You would like some bread and butter?” His mother tried to hush it over, but with no effect. “Mary,” said her brother, “if I go out, will you open the door to me yourself? I will give two raps.” He went, and succeeded in finding a shop not very far off where he could purchase a large plain cake. Returning, he cut it on a plate and let the lads eat. Shortly after they were led away to bed. . He would not let Mary remain with him very long, she was wearied out. “I’ve put a fire in your room,” she said; “the house is a little damp, and I thought it was better.” “In that case I will sit up there. You shall show me the way.”