"Yes, Katie," he recommenced. "I have indeed, my dear, something very particular to say to you. I don't often speak seriously to you, you know, and never bother you about business. So you must not think I want to bother you now, and you must really attend to me." "If it's about going out of town, papa, I really don't care where----" "No, no, Kate, it's not that," said her father, interrupting her; "it's nothing so easily settled as that. The fact is--Kate," he said abruptly, and in a changed tone, "what do you think of our friend Streightley?" "What do I think of Mr. Streightley, papa? I can hardly tell you; I don't think I know,--I don't think I have any thoughts about him. But what has that to do with any thing important or particular that you want to speak to me about?" "It has every thing to do with it, Kate. Robert Streightley is the best friend I have in the world, and he is the best fellow I know." Katharine looked at her father with surprise. She was very far from understanding him perfectly; but she certainly had a notion that Mr. Streightley did not resemble the sort of person to whom she would have expected her father to apply the favourite epithet, "good-fellow." She said nothing, however; and Mr. Guyon, watching her more eagerly than he suffered his features to tell, continued: "I need not weary you by explaining the services Streightley has done me in detail, but I must tell you that I have been unfortunate in money matters in many ways; I have trusted friends, and been deceived--" again Katharine's face expressed surprise, which she certainly felt, and yet would have been puzzled to explain. "I have been speculating, and have been ill-advised; the result has been disastrous; in short, Katie, I must have gone to the wall had it not been for Robert Streightley." Katharine had become exceedingly pale now, and she fixed her eyes on her father with more steadiness than he liked. He leaned his right elbow on the chimney-piece, and kept his right hand hovering about his mouth and chin, ready to cover an undesirable expression of candour or embarrassment. "Do you mean that Mr. Streightley has lent you money, papa?" asked Katharine. "Yes, my dear, he has, and large sums too; and I have lost so heavily by those speculations I mentioned, that I cannot pay him without the greatest inconvenience indeed almost ruin. He does not know how I am situated; and of course it would be painful and humiliating to me to tell him, unless I could also tell him the best news he could hear, Kate----" "What is that, papa?" she asked, perfectly without suspicion. Mr. Guyon found his change of attitude very useful now, and he critically examined his boots before he said: