as the luncheon
prepared for Mr. Copperhead. Ursula sent up an urgent message for Phoebe,
who came to her in her prettiest morning dress, very carefully
arranged, but with a line of care upon her brow.

"I will come if you wish it, dear," she said; "but I don't want to meet
Mr. Copperhead. I don't like him."

"Neither do I like him," cried Ursula. "He said something disagreeable
the little moment he was here. Oh, I don't remember what it was, but
something. Please stay. What am I to do with them all by myself? If you
will help me, I may get through."

Phoebe kissed her with a tremulous kiss; perhaps she was not unwilling to
see with her own eyes what the father of Clarence meant, and what
brought him here. She sat down at the window, and was the first to see
them coming along the street.

"What a gentleman your father looks beside them," cried Phoebe; "both of
them, father and son; though Clarence, after all, is a great deal better
than his father, less like a British snob."

Ursula came and stood by her, looking out.

"I don't think he is much better than his father," she said.

Phoebe took her hand suddenly and wrung it, then dropped it as if it had
hurt her. What did it all mean? Ursula, though rays of enlightenment had
come to her, was still perplexed, and did not understand.

Mr. Copperhead did not see her till he went to luncheon, when Phoebe
appeared with little Amy May looking like a visitor, newly arrived. She
had run upstairs after that first sight of him from the window,
declaring herself unable to be civil to him except at table. The great
man's face almost grew pale at the sight of her. He looked at Ursula,
and then at Clarence, and laughed.

"'Wheresoever the carcase is the eagles are gathered together,'" he
said. "That's Scripture, ain't it, Miss Ursula? I am not good at giving
chapter and verse."

"What does it mean?" asked Ursula.

She was quite indifferent to Mr. Copperhead, and perfectly unconscious
of his observation. As for Phoebe, on the contrary, she was slightly
agitated, her placid surface ruffled a little, and she looked her best
in her agitation. Mr. Copperhead looked straight at her across the
table, and laughed in his insolent way.

"So you are here too, Miss Phoebe!" he said. "I might think myself in the
Crescent if I didn't know better. I met young Northcote just now, and
now you. What may you be doing here, might one ask? It is what you call
a curious coincidence, ain't it,