"You are a greater fool than I took you for," cried Mr. Liddell. "Go take them away, and mind they do not come back."
Katherine hastened after her visitors and led them by a more direct route than they had traversed in coming. It took them past a cake shop, where she spent one of her few sixpences in appeasing her nephews' appetite, which, at least, with Cecil, grew with what it fed upon, in the matter of cakes.
The children, each holding one of her hands, chattered away, telling many particulars of grannie and Jane, and the cat, to say nothing of a most interesting gardener who came to cut the grass. To all of which Katherine lent a willing ear. How ardently she longed to be at home with the dear mother again! She had never done half enough for her. Ah, if they only could be together again in Florence or Dresden as they used to be!
Mrs. Fred Liddell kept almost complete silence--a very unusual case with her--and only as she paused before following her little boys into the omnibus did she give any clew to the current of her thoughts. "Should Colonel Ormonde come on Saturday when you are with us--which is not likely--do not say anything about that horrid old man's rudeness; one does not like to confess to being turned out."
"Certainly not. I shall say nothing, you may be sure."
"Good-by, then. I shall tell your mother you are looking _wretchedly_."
"Pray do not," cried Katherine, but the conductor's loud stamping on his perch to start the driver drowned her voice.
It was a fine evening, fresh, too, with a slight crispness, and Katherine could not resist the temptation of a walk in Regent's Park. She felt her spirits, which had been greatly depressed, somewhat revived by the free air, the sight of grass and trees. Still she could not answer the question which often tormented her, "If my mother cannot sell her book, how will it all end--must I remain as a hostage forever?" It was a gloomy outlook.
She did not allow herself to stray far; crossing the foot-bridge over the Regent's Canal, she turned down a street which led by a circuit toward her abode. It skirted Primrose Hill for a few yards, and as she passed one of the gates admitting to the path which crosses it, a gentleman came out, and after an instant's hesitation raised his hat. Katherine recognized the man who had rescued Cecil at Hyde Park Corner. She smiled and bowed, frankly pleased to meet him again; it was so refreshing to see a bright, kindly face--a face, too, that looked glad to see her.