‘She is just exactly as much your aunt as your uncle James’s wife is--neither less nor more. No, she never came near me. But I was not surprised. It happened in Paris, and then I came away as soon as I could to this little place. I neither expected her to come to Paris, which would have been absurd: nor to come after me here, where she knew I would be among my own people.’ ‘Why,’ said Mab, ‘you would have gone! You would not have minded if it had been in Paris, or at the end of the world.’ ‘I do a great many foolish things,’ said Lady William, with a smile, ‘that wise people don’t do; besides they hadn’t approved much, as was natural. Substantially kind is what you may call them, practically kind your uncles were that, and have been----’ ‘And yet I am seventeen and I have never seen them.’ ‘If you had been a boy,’ said Lady William, ‘they would have felt their duty more; a girl is supposed to be best with her mother. You must not be surprised at that, my dear child. Your uncle Pakenham has always supplied all your wants.’ ‘You never showed me any of his letters----’ ‘His letters! oh, he is not a man who writes letters. His lawyer does all that; but substantially, he has been very kind.’ ‘Mother,’ said Mab, ‘instead of wishing to know these people, to visit them, and all that, I’ll tell you what I should like to do. I should like to be able to work for you, and throw their money in their face--which is what you mean, I suppose, when you say they are substantially kind.’ ‘That would be very foolish, Mab; the money is your right, and for that matter mine too.’ ‘It may be right, but I should like to fling it in their faces all the same. Had my father nothing to leave us, to give us to live on, that you should have to accept it from them?’ Lady William made no answer for some time. Then she said in a low tone: ‘Your father had many things to do. I cannot enter into such questions, Mab; you are not old enough. No; we were destitute but for them.’ ‘You had money of your own, mother?’ ‘Fortunately,’ said Lady William, ‘that did not come to me till after.’ And then she stopped short and bit her lip with annoyance. ‘I didn’t do much with it when it did come,’ she said. ‘I gave it to your poor uncle Reginald. He was to make his fortune, poor fellow, and ours.’ ‘Perhaps he may yet, mother.’ ‘Thank you for the suggestion, Mab; perhaps he may. Alas! I am afraid it is not very likely----’ ‘If he were to do so, mother, you would take this dirty money and fling it back in their faces?’ ‘I don’t know that I should, Mab. I doubt if it would be kind or just--and still more, whether it would be wise.’ ‘Oh, you may be sure they wouldn’t mind, people like that! They would only be glad to have it back, whether you flung it at them or not, provided they had it.’ ‘My dear, you are very hot-headed. In that respect you are, I fear, of my side of the house.’