ed
the station, and run away. She did waver for a moment as she came in
sight of it. On that side lay freedom, comfort, the life she had been
used to, which was not very elevated indeed, but felt like high rank in
comparison with this. And she knew her parents would forgive her and
defend her if she went back to them, unable to support the martyrdom
which she had rashly taken upon herself. But then how weak that would
be, Phoebe thought to herself, drawing Mrs. Tozer's arm more tightly
within her own--how small! how it would hurt the feelings of the old
people, how it would vex and embarrass her father and mother! Lastly, it
might peril her brother's interests and her own, which, to do her
justice, was the last thing she thought of, and yet was not undeserving
of notice in its way.

"Lean on me more heavily, grandmamma," she said at last, finally
concluding and throwing off this self-discussion. She could not prolong
it further. It was unworthy of her. Hence-forward she had made up her
mind to set her face like a flint, and no longer leave the question of
her persistence in her domestic mission an open question. Whatever she
might have "to put up with," it was now decided once for all.

"Bless us all, if this ain't grandmamma," said Mrs. Tom. It was not
often, as she herself said with pride, that she required to be in the
shop, which was very much improved now from its old aspect. Ill luck,
however, brought her here to-day. She stood at the door which led from
the shop to the house, dividing the counter, talking to a lady who was
making a complaint upon the quality of cheese or butter. Mrs. Tozer had
led Phoebe that way in order to point out to her the plate-glass windows
and marble slabs for the cheese, of which, though they were one of her
grievances against Mrs. Tom, she was secretly proud.

"I don't deny but what they've done a deal," said the old woman, "show
and vanity as I call it. I wish they may do as well for themselves with
all their plate-glass as me and Tozer did without it; but it ain't often
as you'll see a handsomer shop," she added, contemplating fondly the
scene of her early labours. If a squire looks fondly at his land, and a
sailor at his ship (when ships were worth looking at), why should not a
shopkeeper regard his shop with the same affectionate feelings? Mrs. Tom
Tozer had just taken leave of her remonstrant customer with a curtsey,
and an assurance that the faults complained of should be remed