There was a deep tenderness in his voice, and she took his hand in hers. "Uncle, will you not kiss me?" He kissed her, and the tears came into his eyes. "There," he muttered, "you see how it is. That is the first time my lips have touched a woman's face since I was a youngster. Don't think the better of me for it. What is the time? Four o'clock. Have you had dinner?" "No, uncle." "Lunch?" "No, uncle." "Breakfast?" "Yes." "At what hour?" "Eight o'clock." "And nothing since?" "Nothing. I was so anxious to get to you, and I have been so long finding you." "No wonder you are white and faint. Ah, there is Timothy, in my little room where we eat--and talk, I was about to say; but we talk everywhere. Come along." There was not only tea on the table, there was a chop, beautifully cooked, and bread-and-butter, on a clean white cloth. "What did I tell you of him?" said Mr. Loveday, when Timothy, after looking at the table to see that nothing was wanting, had departed. "He knew what I did not. I never met another like him. Now, eat. Ah, the color is coming back into your face. Have you come from the country?" "Yes, uncle." "What station did you stop at?" "Waterloo." "At what time?" "One o'clock." "And you have been three hours getting here. Why did you not ride? I beg your pardon. No money, perhaps?" "Oh, yes." She produced her purse, which, before she could prevent him, her uncle took from her hand. "Two shillings and eightpence. Is it all you have?" Her lips quivered. "Of course you could not ride. There is no return ticket to--to the place you came from." "I was not sure of returning there, uncle." "Ah! I have something to hear. Or perhaps you did not have money enough to pay for a double fare. Why, Nansie, I might have been dead, for all you knew! You trusted to a slender chance. What would have happened if you had not found me? Two shillings and eightpence would have kept you till to-morrow, and then-- You have something of my brother's thoughtless spirit in you." "Say, rather, of your dear brother's hope and trust." "I will say it if you like, but it will not alter the fact that you have acted rashly. But I must learn how the land lies. You have a story to tell?" "Yes, uncle." "If I allow you to tell it in your own way you will stumble and break down; will cry, and faint again, perhaps. I put you, therefore, in the witness-box, where you are to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Are you ready?" "Yes, uncle." "No evasions, no gloss; plain and unvarnished. Deceive me once, and you will find me a tough customer. First, let me say that I am agreeably surprised in you. Brought up in the country I know not how, I might have expected my niece to be a raw country wench with rough manners and small education. I find, on the contrary, a lady who can read and write." "Yes, uncle," said Nansie, with a smile, "I can do that." "And can cipher, perhaps." "I am not very good at figures, uncle."