She was quite silent for nearly a minute, and Edward Wynford watched her with curiosity and pain mingled in his face. Her eyes reminded him of the brother whom he had so truly loved; in every other respect Evelyn was her mother over again.

"I suppose," she said after a pause, "although I may not speak about what lies before me in the future, and you must die some time, Uncle Edward, that I may at least ask you to supply me with the needful?"

"The what, dear?"

"The needful. c.h.i.n.k, you know-c.h.i.n.k."

Squire Wynford sank slowly back again into his chair.

"You might ask me to sit down," said Evelyn, "seeing that the room and all it contains will be--" Here she broke off abruptly. "I beg your pardon," she continued. "I really and truly do not want you to die a minute before your rightful hour. We all have our hour-at least mothery said so-and then go we must, whether we like it or not; so, as you must go some day, and I must--Oh dear! I am always being drawn up now by that horrid wish of yours that I should try to be an English girl. I will try to be when I am in your presence, for I happen to like you; but as for the others, well, we shall see. But, Uncle Ned, what about the c.h.i.n.k?

Perhaps you call it money; anyhow, it means money. How much may I have out of what is to be all my own some day to spend now exactly as I like?"

"You can have a fair sum, Evelyn. But, first of all, tell me what you want it for and how you mean to spend it."

"I have all kinds of wants," began Evelyn. "Jasper had plenty of money to spend on me until I came here. She manages very well indeed, does Jasper. We bought lots of things in Paris-this dress, for instance. How do you like my dress, Uncle Ned?"

"I am not capable of giving an opinion."

"Aren't you really? I expect you are about stunned. You never thought a girl like me could dress with such taste. Do you mind my speaking to Audrey, Uncle Ned, about her dress? It does not seem to me to be correct."

"What is wrong with it?" asked the Squire.

"It is so awfully dowdy; it is not what a lady ought to wear. Ladies ought to dress in silks and satins and brocades and rich embroidered robes. Mothery always said so, and mothery surely knew. But there, I am idling you, and I suppose you are busy directing the management of your estates, which are to be--Oh, there! I am pulled up again. I want my money for Jasper, for one thing. Jasper has got some poor relations, and she and I between us support them."

"She and you between you," said the Squire, "support your maid's relations!"

"Oh dear me, Uncle Ned, how stiffly you speak! But surely it does not matter; I can do what I like with my own."

"Listen to me, Evelyn," said her uncle. "You are only a very young girl; your mind may in some ways be older than your body, but you are nothing more than a child."

"I am not such a child as I look. I was sixteen a month ago. I am sixteen, and that is not very young."

"We must agree to differ," said her uncle. "You are young and you are not wise; and although there is some money which is absolutely your own coming from the ranch in Tasmania, yet I have the charge of it until you come of age."

"When I come of age I suppose I shall be very, very rich?"

"Not at all. You will be my care, and I will allow you what is proper, but as long as I live you will only have the small sum which will come to you yearly from the rent of the ranch. As the ranch may possibly be sold some day, we may be able to realize a nice little capital for you; but you are too young to know much of these things at present. The matter in hand, therefore, is all-sufficient. I will allow you as pocket-money five pounds a quarter. I give precisely the same sum to Audrey. Your aunt will buy your clothes, and you will live here and be treated in all respects as my daughter. Now, that is my side of the bargain."

Evelyn's face turned white.

"Five pounds a quarter!" she said. "Why, that is downright penury!"

"No, dear; for the use you require it for it is downright riches. But, be it riches or be it penury, you get no more."

Evelyn looked full at her uncle; her uncle looked back at her.

"Come here, little girl," he said.

Her heart was beating with furious anger, but there was something in his tone which subdued her. She went slowly to him, and he put his arm round her waist.

"Your eyes are like-very like-one whom I loved best on earth."

"You mean my father," said the girl.

"Your father. He left you to me to care for, and to love and to train-to train for a high position eventually."

"He left me to mothery; you are quite mistaken there. Mothery has trained me; father left me to her. She often and often and often told me so."

"That is true, dear. While your mother lived she had the prior claim over you, but now you belong to me."

"Yes," said Evelyn. She felt fascinated. She snuggled comfortably inside her uncle's arm; her strange brown eyes were fixed on his face.

"I give you," he continued, "the love and care of a father, but I expect a return."

"What? I don't mind. I have two diamonds-beauties. You shall have them to make into studs; you shall, because I-yes, I love you."

"I don't want your diamonds, my little girl, but I want other things-your love and your obedience. I want you, if you like me, and if you like your Aunt Frances, and if you like your cousin, to follow in our steps, for we have been brought up to approve of courteous manners and quiet dress and gentle speech; and I want that brain of yours, Evelyn, to be educated to high and lofty thoughts. I want you to be a grand woman, worthy of your father, and I expect this return from you for all that I am going to do for you."

"Are you going to teach me your own self?" asked Evelyn.

"You can come to me sometimes for a talk, but it is impossible for me to be your instructor. You will have a suitable governess."

"Jasper knows a lot of things. Perhaps she could teach both Audrey and me. She might if you paid her well. She has got some awfully poor relations; she must have lots of money, poor Jasper must."

"Well, dear, leave me now. We will talk of your education and who is to instruct you, and all about Jasper too, within a few days. You have got to see the place and to make Audrey's acquaintance; and there are some young friends coming to the Castle for a week. Altogether, you have arrived at a gay time. Now run away, find your cousin, and make yourself happy."

Squire Wynford rose as he spoke, and taking Evelyn's hand, he led her to the door. He opened the door wide for her, and saw her go out, and then he kissed his hand to her and closed the door again.

"Poor little mite!" he said to himself. "As strange a child as I ever saw, but with Frank's eyes."

CHAPTER VI.-THE HUNGRY GIRL.

Now, the Squire had produced a decidedly softening effect upon Evelyn, and if she had not had the misfortune to meet Lady Frances just as she left his room, much that followed need never taken place. But Lady Frances, who had never in the very least returned poor Frank Wynford's affection for her, and who had no sentimental feelings with regard to Evelyn-Lady Frances, who simply regarded the little girl as a troublesome and very tiresome member of the family-was not disposed to be too soothing in her manner.

"Come here, my dear," she said. "Come over here to the light. What have you got on?"

"My pretty red velvet dress," replied Evelyn, tossing her head. "A suitable dress for an heiress like myself."

"Come, this is quite beyond enduring. I want to speak to you, Evelyn. I have several things to say. Come into my boudoir."

"But, if you please," said Evelyn, "I have nothing to say to you, and I have a great deal to do in other directions. I am going back to Jasper; she wants me."

"Oh, that reminds me," began Lady Frances. "Come in here this moment, my dear."

She took Evelyn's hand and dragged the unwilling child into her private apartment. A bright fire burned in the grate. The room looked cozy, cheerful, orderly. Lady Frances was a woman of method. She had piles of papers lying neatly docketed on her writing-table; a sheaf of unanswered letters lay on one side. A Remington typewriter stood on a table near, and a slim-looking girl was standing by the typewriter.