"Ladies and gentlemen," then said he, very coolly, "I don't see what there is to laugh at! A brother and sister meet after many years' separation, and the sister cries, poor thing! For my part, I think it very natural that _she_ should cry; but not that you should laugh!" In an instant the whole shame was removed from Richard Avenel, and rested in full weight upon the bystanders. It is impossible to say how foolish and sheepish they all looked, nor how slinkingly each tried to creep off. Richard Avenel seized his advantage with the promptitude of a man who had got on in America, and was therefore accustomed to make the best of things. He drew Mrs. Fairfield's arm in his, and led her into the house; but when he had got her safe into his parlor--Leonard following all the time--and the door was closed upon those three, _then_ Richard Avenel's ire burst forth. "You impudent, ungrateful, audacious drab!" Yes, drab was the word. I am shocked to say it, but the duties of a historian are stern; and the word _was_ drab. "Drab!" faltered poor Jane Fairfield; and she clutched hold of Leonard to save herself from falling. "Sir!" cried Leonard fiercely. You might as well have cried "sir" to a torrent. Richard hurried on, furious. "You nasty, dirty, dusty dowdy! How dare you come here to disgrace me in my own house and premises, after my sending you fifty pounds? To take the very time, too, when--when"-- Richard gasped for breath; and the laugh of his guests rang in his ears, and got into his chest, and choked him. Jane Fairfield drew herself up, and her tears were dried. "I did not come to disgrace you; I came to see my boy, and"-- "Ha!" interrupted Richard, "to see _him_." He turned to Leonard: "You have written to this woman, then?" "No, sir, I have not." "I believe you lie." "He does not lie; and he is as good as yourself, and better, Richard Avenel," exclaimed Mrs. Fairfield; "and I won't stand here and hear him insulted--that's what I won't. And as for your fifty pounds, there are forty-five of it; and I'll work my fingers to the bone till I pay back the other five. And don't be afeared I shall disgrace you, for I'll never look on your face agin; and you're a wicked bad man--that's what you are." The poor woman's voice was so raised and so shrill, that any other and more remorseful feeling which Richard might have conceived, was drowned in his apprehension that she would be overheard by his servants--a masculine apprehension, with which females rarely sympathize; which, on the contrary, they are inclined to consider a mean and cowardly terror on the part of their male oppressors. "Hush! hold your infernal squall--do!" said Mr. Avenel in a tone that he meant to be soothing. "There--sit down--and don't stir till I come back again, and can talk to you calmly. Leonard, follow me, and help to explain things to our guests." He stood still, but shook his head slightly.