"Mumsey's in the garden," replied Meg with great dignity, flinging back her curls. "Just where you ought to be," said Fenton ill-naturedly, "getting fresh air." "I'm reading a fairy tale," explained Meg, closing her book; "mumsey said I could do what I liked." "Your mother don't rear you well," retorted the American, and he walked away, when a peal of laughter made him turn round. "What funny faces you make," said the child; "I feel quite laughy." "I'd like to spank you," observed Fenton, with no very amiable expression of countenance. "You're a bad man," said Meg indignantly; "I don't know a badder--not a bit like my Mr. Keith." "Oh," sneered Fenton, "and who is Mr. Keith?" "He is a very nice gentleman," replied Meg, pursing up her lips; "he stopped the wheels going over me." "I wish he hadn't," muttered Fenton vindictively. "Meg, go and tell mother I want her right away." "I sha'n't," retorted Meg obstinately; "you're a rude man." "I'll make you smart," said Fenton, catching her arm. "Oh, mumsey," cried the child, in a tone of relief, and Fenton turned just to see Kitty looking at him like an enraged tigress. "You lay a finger on my child," she said viciously, "and I'll kill you!" The American released his hold on Meg with an awkward laugh, and took a seat. "Why don't you teach her manners," he growled. "That's my business," flashed out Kitty haughtily. "And now you are here, I wish to speak with you. Meg, my treasure, run out and say mumsey won't be long." "Mumsey's going to be cross with you now," said Meg consolingly to Fenton, and then ran out laughing, the man looking angrily after her. Left alone, Kitty sat down near Fenton and began to talk. "I asked you for five hundred," she said coldly. "Yes--and I refused," sulkily. "So I saw by your letter. What is your reason?" "That's my business." "Mine also. Why did you refuse?" she reiterated. "I'm sick of your extravagance." Caprice laughed in a sneering way that brought the blush to his cheek. "Do you think I'm dependent on you for money?" she said, with scorn. "I know fifty better men than you who would give me the money if I asked them." "Then go and ask them," he returned brutally. Kitty sprang to her feet. "Of course I will; that means your dismissal." Fenton caught at her dress in genuine alarm. "No, no! don't go; you know I love you--" "So well," she interrupted, "that you refuse me a paltry five hundred pounds." "I would give it to you, but I haven't got it." "Then get it," she said coolly. "I'm nearly ruined," he cried desperately. "Then retire, and make room for better men." "You're a devil!" hissed Fenton. "No doubt. I told you what to expect when I first met you." "Do you mean to say you will throw me over because I've no money left?" he said fiercely, grasping her wrist. "Like an old glove," she retorted. "I'll kill you first." "Bah! you are melodramatic." "Oh, Kitty, Kitty!" with a sudden change to tenderness.