the quality, she is," said the old woman; "maybe
more so than she is with you and me; but there ain't a better girl in
all England, and that I'll say for her, though if she would think a
little more about her clothes, as is nat'ral at her age, it would be
more pleasing to me."

"The worst dress as Phoebe has is better than anything belonging to them
Mays," said Tozer.

He did not care for the parson at St. Roque; though he was pleased that
his child should be among "the quality." But it was on that evening that
poor old Mrs. Tozer had one of her attacks, and Phoebe had to be summoned
back at an early hour. The servant went down with an umbrella and a
note, to bring her home; and that trifling incident had its influence
upon after affairs, as the reader shall shortly see.

CHAPTER XXII.

A DESPERATE EXPEDIENT.

It was something of a comfort to Phoebe to find that the "tea" to which
Ursula asked her was a family meal, such as Mr. and Mrs. Tozer indulged
in, in Grange Lane, with no idea of dinner to follow, as in more refined
circles. This, she said to herself benignly, must be "country fashion,"
and she was naturally as bland and gracious at the Parsonage tea-table
as anybody from town, knowing better, but desiring to make herself
thoroughly agreeable, could be. She amused Mr. May very much, who felt
the serene young princess, accepting her vulgar relations with gentle
resignation, and supported by a feeling of her own innate dignity, to be
something quite new to him. Phoebe had no objection to talk upon the
subject, for, clever as she was, she was not so clever as to see through
Mr. May's amused show of interest in her trials, but believed
ingenuously that he understood and felt for her, and was, perhaps, at
last, the one noble, impartial, and generous Churchman who could see
the difficulties of cultivated Dissenters, and enter into them
sympathetically. Why Mr. May took the trouble to draw her out on this
point it is more difficult to explain. Poor man, he was in a state of
semi-distraction over Cotsdean's bill. The ten days had shortened into
three, and he was no nearer finding that hundred pounds than ever. Even
while he smiled and talked to Phoebe, he was repeating over and over to
himself the terrible fact which could not now be ignored. "17th, 18th,
19th, and Friday will be the 20th," he was saying to himself. If that
20th came without any help, Cotsdean would be virtually made a bankrupt;
for of cour