said Phoebe, quietly, "that it is of no use making
yourself ill to-night. Grandpapa, let this gentleman go--he wants to go;
and I have something to say to you. You can do anything that is
necessary to-morrow."

"I think so indeed," said Mr. Simpson, of the Bank, getting up at last,
"the young lady is quite right. We can't act hastily in a thing like
this. Cotsdean's a man of good character, Mr. Tozer; all that has to be
taken into account--and he is not a beggar. If he has done it, we can
recover something at least; but if he has been taken advantage of--I
think the young lady is a good counsellor, and that it's much the best
to wait till to-morrow."

Phoebe seized upon her grandfather's arm to restrain him, and held him
back. "Good-night," she said; "grandpapa, stay with me, I have something
to say to you. Listen; you don't think me very silly, do you, grandpapa
dear?"

"Silly!" he said, listening to the steps of the departing visitor as
they receded along the passage. "What has a chit like you to do with
business? I tell you it'll kill me. Me a-signing of accommodation bills
for a bit of a small shopkeeper like that Cotsdean! I tell you it'll
make an end of me, that will, unless I gets my money and clears myself
afore the world. And here you've been and sent away Simpson, and who's
to manage for me? I ain't a lawyer to know what to do. Get away, get
away, and leave me to myself, I can't be disturbed with women-folks when
I've got real business in hand."

"I'll manage for you," said Phoebe; "you need not stare at me like that,
grandpapa--"

"Go out o' the room this moment, Miss!" he cried furious; "you! here's a
sort of thing for me to put up with. Sam Tozer wasn't born yesterday
that a bit of an impudent girl should take upon her to do for him.
Manage for me! go out o' my sight; I'm a fool, am I, and in my dotage to
have a pack of women meddling in my affairs?"

Phoebe had never met with such an outburst of coarse anger in her life
before, and it gave her a shock, as such assaults naturally do to people
brought up softly, and used to nothing but kindness. For a moment she
wavered, doubtful whether she should not proudly abandon him and his
affairs altogether; but this was to abandon her friends too. She
mastered herself accordingly, and the resentment which she could not
help feeling--and stood pale but quiet opposite to the infuriated old
man. His grey eyes seemed to give out sparks of fire. His hair bristled