ing to fall
in love with Miss Beecham," she said suspiciously. "I have heard Betsy
say that old gentlemen often do."

"He is not so foolish as to fall in love with anybody," said Ursula,
with dignity. "Indeed, Janey, you ought to have much more respect for
papa. I wish you could be sent to school and learn more sense. You give
your opinion as if you were--twenty--more than that. I am sure I never
should have ventured to say such things when I was a child like you."

"Child yourself!" said Janey indignant; which was her last resource when
she had nothing more to say; but Ursula was too busy putting aside her
work and preparing for her walk to pay any attention. In proportion as
she had been subdued and downcast heretofore, she was gay now. She
forgot all about old Tozer; about the Dissenters' meeting, and the man
who had made an attack upon poor Reginald. She flew to her room for her
hat and jacket, and ran downstairs, singing to herself. Janey only
overtook her, out of breath, as she emerged into the road from the
Parsonage door.

"What a dreadful hurry you are in," said Janey. "I always get ready so
much quicker than you do. Is it all about this girl, because she is new?
I never knew you were so fond of new people before."

But that day they went up and down Grange Lane fruitlessly, without
seeing anything of Phoebe, and Ursula returned home disconsolate. In the
evening Reginald intimated carelessly that he had met Miss Beecham. "She
is much better worth talking to than most of the girls one meets with,
whoever her grandfather may be," he said, evidently with an instant
readiness to stand on the defensive.

"Oh, did you talk to her," said Ursula, "without knowing? Reginald, papa
has no objections. He says we may even have her here, if we please."

"Well, of course I suppose he must guide you in that respect," said
Reginald, "but it does not matter particularly to me. Of course I talked
to her. Even my father could not expect that his permission was needed
for me."

At which piece of self-assertion the girls looked at him with admiring
eyes. Already they felt there was a difference. Reginald at home,
nominal curate, without pay or position, was a different thing from
Reginald with an appointment, a house of his own, and two hundred and
fifty pounds a year. The girls looked at him admiringly, but felt that
this was never likely to be their fate. In everything the boys had so
much the best of it; and yet it was al