ould be no doubt, she felt sure of it, that the discussion here had
some connection with the calamity _there_. What it was she had not the
slightest idea; but that somehow the two were connected she felt
certain. The voices were loud as she approached the door.

"I'll find out who done it, and I'll punish him--as sure as that's my
name, though I never put it on that there paper," Tozer was saying.
Phoebe opened the door boldly, and went in. She had never seen her
grandfather look so unlike himself. The knot of the big white
neckerchief round his neck was pushed away, his eyes were red, giving
out strange lights of passion. He was standing in front of the fireplace
gesticulating wildly. Though it was now April and the weather very mild
and genial, there were still fires in the Tozer sitting-rooms, and as
the windows were carefully shut, Phoebe felt the atmosphere stifling. The
other person in the room was a serious, large man, whom she had already
seen more than once; one of the chief clerks in the bank where Tozer
kept his account, who had an old acquaintance with the butterman, and
who was in the habit of coming when the bank had anything to say to so
sure a customer about rates of investment or the value of money. He was
seated at one side of the fire, looking very grave and shaking his head
as the other spoke.

"That is very true, and I don't say anything against it. But, Mr. Tozer,
I can't help thinking there's some one else in it than Cotsdean."

"What one else? what is the good of coming here to me with a pack of
nonsense? He's a poor needy creature as hasn't a penny to bless himself
with, a lot of children, and a wife as drinks. Don't talk to me of some
one else. That's the sort of man as does all the mischief. What, Phoebe!
run away to your grandmother, I don't want you here."

"I am very sorry to interrupt you, grandpapa. Mayn't I stay? I have
something to say to you--"

Tozer turned round and looked at her eagerly. Partly his own fancy, and
partly his wife's more enlightened observations, had made him aware that
it was possible that Phoebe might one day have something very interesting
to reveal. So her words roused him even in the midst of his
pre-occupation. He looked at her for a second, then he waved his hand
and said,

"I'm busy; go away, my dear, go away; I can't talk to you now."

Phoebe gave the visitor a look which perplexed him; but which meant, if
he could but have read it, an earnest entreaty