"Don't talk nonsense, children," exclaimed their mother, peremptorily. "I should die of fright if I thought you were left behind with that ogre. I wouldn't sacrifice my children for the sake of filthy lucre."
"Do not talk nonsense, Ada?" said Katherine, impatiently. "I am infinitely distressed that my uncle should have behaved so rudely, but he is really eccentric, and if you had consulted—"
"He is the boys' uncle as well as yours," interrupted Ada, indignantly. "Why should they not come and see him? How was I to suppose he was such an unnatural monster?"
"I always told you he was very peculiar."
"Peculiar! that is a delicate way of putting it. If I were you I should be ashamed of wasting my time and my youth acting servant to an old miser who will not leave you a sou!"
"No, I don't suppose he will," returned Katherine, quietly. "Still, I am not the least ashamed of what I am doing; I am quite satisfied with my own motives."
"Oh, you are always satisfied with yourself, I know," was the angry answer, "But"—with a slight change of tone—"I am sorry to see you look so pale and ill, though you deserve it."
"Never mind, Ada. Take off your bonnet and sit down. I will get you a cup of tea."
"Tea! no, certainly not! Do you think me so mean as to taste a mouthful of food in this house after being ordered out of it?"
"Oh, I am so hungry!" cried Cecil, in mournful tones.