CHAPTER V.
KATY VISITS MRS. GORDON, AND GETS RID OF DR. FLYNCH.
Katy gazed with wonder and admiration at the rich furniture of the house, and thought that perhaps her grandfather lived in as good style as Mrs. Gordon, and that she might some day go to Liverpool and be an inmate of just such a palace. The door of the sitting-room was open, and she had an opportunity to look at all the fine things it contained. She had never seen anything so luxurious before, and I must say that she regretted the poverty of her lot, which deprived her mother and herself of them.
All round the room hung pictures in costly frames. Some of them were portraits; and one which hung over the mantelpiece directly before her, soon attracted her attention, and made her forget the soft divans, the beautiful carpet, and the rich draperies of the windows. It was the portrait of a lady, and her expression was very like that of her mother—so like that she could almost believe the picture had been painted for her mother. Yet that could not be, for the lady was young, and plump, and rosy, and wore rich laces, and a costly dress. She seemed to look down upon her from the golden frame with a smile of satisfaction. There was something roguish in her eye, as though she was on the point of bursting into a laugh at some mischief she had perpetrated. O, no! that could not be her mother; she had never seen her look like that. But there was something that seemed very much like her; and the more she looked at it, the more the picture fascinated her. She tried to look at something else, but the lady appeared to have fixed her gaze upon her, and, whichever way she turned, those laughing eyes followed her, and brought back her attention to the canvas again.
In vain she attempted to fasten her mind upon some of the other portraits. There was an elderly gentleman, with a full red face; but the jealous lady would not let her look at him. She turned round and looked out the windows at the side of the door; but the spell of the lady was upon her, and she could not resist the charm. The more she studied the portrait, the more convinced she became that it looked like her mother, though there was something about it which was as unlike her as anything could be. "What makes you keep looking at me?" said Katy to herself, or rather to the lady on the canvas. "You needn't watch me so closely; I shall not steal anything."
The lady, however, insisted on watching her, and kept her roguish glance fixed upon her with a steadiness that began to make her feel nervous and uneasy; and she was greatly relieved when she heard footsteps on the stairs.
"Mrs. Gordon will be down in a moment," said Miss Grace, in kind tones. "Won't you come into this room and sit down?"
Katy thanked her, and Grace led her to a small chair directly under the mischievous-looking lady in the frame; and she felt a kind of satisfaction in being placed out of her sight. But it seemed, even then, as she cast a furtive glance upward, that those roguish eyes were trying to peer over the picture frame, and get a look at her.
"Well, little girl, what do you wish with me?" said Mrs. Gordon, a benevolent looking lady, apparently of more than forty years of age, who now entered the room.
The expression of her countenance was very pleasant, and though there were a few wrinkles on her brow and she wore a lace cap, Katy came to the conclusion that the portrait had been taken for her. She wondered if such a dignified lady could ever have been so roguish as the picture indicated.