atmosphere without and within.  Close by the table stood a very little man, enveloped in a long loosely-fitting overcoat, his hat in one hand and a large damp umbrella in the other.  He had an abnormally large head, and a soft, flabby, uninteresting face, which, however, was redeemed from vacancy by the gleam and glitter of his remarkably keen and piercing black eyes.  His hair was grey, and a straggling beard, grey also, adorned his heavy chin.  Gladys was conscious of a strong sense of repulsion as she looked at him, but she tried not to show it, and feebly smiled as she extended her hand.

‘Are you Uncle Abel, papa’s brother?’ she asked—­a perfectly unnecessary question, of course, but it fell from her involuntarily, the contrast was so great; almost she could have called him an impostor on the spot.

‘Yes,’ said Uncle Abel in a harsh undertone; ’and you, I suppose, are my niece?’

‘Yes.  Can I take your overcoat or your umbrella?’ asked Gladys; ’and would you like some tea?  I can ask Miss Peck to get it.  I have not had any myself—­now I come to think of it.’

’I’ll take off my coat.  Yes, you can take it away, but don’t order tea yet.  We had better talk first—­talking always makes one hungry; then we can have tea, and we won’t require any supper.  These are the economics poor people have to study.  I guess you are no stranger to them?’

Gladys again faintly smiled.  She was not in the least surprised.  Poverty had long been her companion, she expected nothing but to have it for her companion still.  She took her uncle’s hat and overcoat, hung them in the little hall, and returned to the room, closing the door.

‘Perhaps you are cold, uncle?’ she said, and, grasping the poker, was about to stir up the fire, when he hastily took it from her, with an expression of positive pain on his face.

’Don’t; it is quite warm.  We can’t afford to be extravagant; and I daresay,’ he added, with a backward jerk of his thumb towards the door, ’like the rest of her tribe, she’ll know how to charge.  Sit down there, and let us talk.’

Gladys sat down, feeling a trifle hurt and abashed.  They had always been very poor, she and her father, but they had never obtruded it on their own notice, but had tried cheerfully always to accept what they had with a thankful heart.  But Love dwelt with them always, and she can make divine her humblest fare.

Mr. Abel Graham fumbled in the inner pocket of his very shabby coat, and at last brought out a square envelope, from which he took the curate’s letter.

‘I have come,’ he said quite slowly, ’in answer to this.  I suppose you knew it had been written?’

‘If it is Mr. Courtney’s letter, yes,’ answered Gladys, unconsciously adopting her uncle’s business-like tone and manner.  ’Of course he told me he had written.’

‘And you expected me to come, of course?’

‘I don’t think I thought about it much,’ Gladys answered, with frankness.  ‘It is very good of you to come so soon.’