e
about him."

"I did not know I had been a hero of fiction," said Reginald, who had a
great mind to be angry. All this time they were walking briskly backward
and forward before Tozer's open door, the Anglican, in his long black
coat, following the lively movements of Tozer's granddaughter, only
because he could not help himself. He was irritated, yet he was pleased.
A young man is pleased to be thought of, even when the notice is but
barely complimentary. Phoebe must have thought of him a good deal before
she found him out in this way; but he was irritated all the same.

"You are, however," she answered lightly. "Look at that blaze of
crimson, Mr. May; and the blue which is so clear and so unfathomable.
Winter is grander than summer, and even warmer--to look at; with its
orange, and purple, and gold. What poor little dirty, dingy things we
are down here, to have all this exhibited every evening for our
delight!"

"That is true," he said; and as he gazed, something woke in the young
man's heart--a little thrill of fancy, if not of love. It is hard to
look at a beautiful sunset, and then see it reflected in a girl's face,
and not to feel something--which may be nothing, perhaps. His heart gave
a small jump, not much to speak of. Phoebe did not talk like the other
young ladies in Grange Lane.

"Mr. May, Mr. May!" she cried suddenly, "please go away! I foresee a
disastrous encounter which alarms me. You can't fight, but there is no
saying what you might do to each other. Please go away!"

"What is the matter?" he said. "I don't understand any encounter being
disastrous here. Why should I go away?"

She laughed, but there was a certain fright in her tone. "Please!" she
said, "I see Mr. Northcote coming this way. He will stop to speak to me.
It is the gentleman who attacked you in the Meeting. Mr. May," she added
entreatingly, between laughter and fright, "do go, please."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Reginald, roused; "I am not
afraid. Let him come on. This wall shall fly from its firm base as soon
as I."

Phoebe clasped her hands in dismay, which was partially real. "The
typical churchman," she said, with a glance at Reginald's figure, which
was not displeasing to him, "and the typical Dissenter! and what am I to
do between them? Oh, I wish you would go away."

"Not an inch," said the young champion. Phoebe was frightened, but she
was delighted. "I shall introduce him to you," she said threatening.