my position. On
the other hand, of course I could not wish, as poor mamma's only
daughter, to have my sister-in-law called in. She is not the kind of
person; she is underbred, uneducated. Of course she would be thinking of
her own children, and what would be best for them. My parents have done
all that ought to be expected from them for Tom. Considering all things,
what they have to dispose of ought to go to Phoebe and Tozer. But Mrs.
Tom would not see that."

"It is very true, my dear; I don't suppose she would," said Mr. Beecham,
with an anxious air.

"Mrs. Tom," said his wife, with some heat, "would think her own had the
first claim. She maintained it to my very face, and after that what have
we to expect? It's us that are Tozers," she said; "as for you, Phoebe,
you belong to another family. I put it in my own language of course, not
in her vulgar way."

"It is a very serious question altogether," said the pastor, with some
solemnity. "I don't see how you can get away, and I don't know what is
to be done."

"Whatever is to be done, I won't leave poor mamma in the hands of Mrs.
Tom," cries Mrs. Beecham, "not whatever it costs me. She's capable of
anything, that woman is. To have her in the same town is bad enough, but
in the same house nursing poor mamma! You and I would never see a penny
of the money, Henery, nor our children--not a penny! besides the
vexation of seeing one's own parents turned against one. I know very
well how it would be."

Mr. Beecham ceased twiddling his thumbs. The crisis was too serious for
that indulgence. "The position is most difficult," he said, "I see it
all. It is easy to see it for that matter, but to decide what are we to
do is not easy. To go back to Carlingford after so many changes, would
it be good for you?"

"It would kill me," said Mrs. Beecham, with energy, "you know it would
kill me. Envy drove us out, and envy would bring me to the grave. I
don't deceive myself, that is what I see before me, if I tear myself
from all my duties and go. But on the other hand----"

"Listen, mamma!" cried Phoebe, turning round suddenly; "if grandmamma is
ill, and you are afraid to leave her alone, why not send me?"

Both her parents turned towards Phoebe, as she spoke; they listened to
her with wonder and consternation, yet with admiring looks. Then they
looked at each other consulting, alarmed. "You!" said Mrs. Beecham, and
"You!" echoed the pastor, repeating in his great astonishment w