eard, 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.