The man took it, bowed low, and shambled off. It made Alice ashamed only to see the attitude of the poor hungry creature, and the abasement of poverty. "Well, Alice," said John, "we've seen the last of the family, until their letters begin to come in. Halloa! Who's this?" For John became aware of the girl who had been standing beside the door, unnoticed. When all were gone, she stepped in lightly. "Mrs. Haveril," she said--"I ought to call you Cousin Alice, but I am afraid you have had cousins enough. My name is Pennefather--Molly Pennefather." "Why, I was a Pennefather--same as Charles, who's just gone out, and the ragged wretch who was Cousin Alfred." "Yes; and others of the truly dreadful people who have just gone out. I don't know any of them. Fortunately, they wouldn't have anything to do with my poor old dad, because he disgraced the family and went on the stage. If they hadn't been so haughty, I might have had to know them now." "Your father? Is he Willy Pennefather?" "He was. But he died five years ago." "He died? Poor Willy! Oh, John, if you'd known my cousin Will! How clever he was! And how bright! Dead, is he?" "He was never a great success, you know, because he couldn't settle down. And at last he died. And I---- Well, I'm studying for the stage myself." "Oh, you are Willy's daughter! My dear, you look straight. But there's been such a self-seeking----" "I don't want your money, indeed!" "Oh, but have you got money, my dear?" "No; but some day I suppose I shall have--by my Art. That's the way to talk about the profession nowadays. Well, I mean that I don't want your money, Cousin Alice." "If you haven't got any money and don't want any----" John began. "You see, we are not all built like Mr. John Haveril," she interrupted, with a sweet smile. "Art, I am told, makes one despise money. When I am furnished with my Art, I dare say I shall despise money." "Oh, coom now, lass!" From time to time, but rarely, John Haveril became Yorkshire again. "Despise the brass?" "Not the people who have the brass. That is an accident." "I don't know about accidents." "Well, you've got money; once you hadn't. You're John Haveril all the same--see? Besides, it's quite right that some people should have money. They can take stalls at theatres. If you will let me be friends with you, Mr. Haveril, and won't look so dreadfully suspicious----" "Well, I don't care," he said. "You look as if----" "As if I was telling the truth. Shake hands, then." Mrs. Haveril gave her a hand, and then, looking in her face, threw her arms round her neck. "My dear child," she said, "you're the very picture of your father--Cousin Will. I thought there must be some one in the family fit to love." She hugged and kissed the girl with a sudden wave of affection. "Oh, Molly, my dear, I am sure I shall love you!"