in this world."

"Is that your last word?" said the father, curiously repeating, without
being aware of it, his question of the previous night.

"That's my last word," said the son, contemplating his father sullenly
from under the heavy lids of his obstinate eyes.

"Very well," said Mr. Copperhead; "then come along to breakfast, for I'm
hungry, and we can talk it over there."

CHAPTER XLV.

THE LAST.

This is how Phoebe's difficulties ended. Contrary to her every
expectation, Mr. Copperhead made a great brag of her powers wherever he
went. "Money is money," he said, "but brains is brains, all the same--we
can't get on without 'em--and when you want to make a figure in the
world, sir, buy a few brains if they fall in your way--that's my style.
I've done with stupid ones up till now; but when I see there's a want of
a clever one, I ain't such a fool as to shut my eyes to it. They cost
dear, but I'm thankful to say I can afford that, ay, and a good deal
more." Thus everything was satisfactorily arranged. Tozer and his wife
cried together for joy on the wedding-day, but they did not expect to be
asked to that ceremony, being well aware that Phoebe, having now
completely entered into the regions of the great, could not be expected
to have very much to say to them. "Though I know, the darling, as she'd
just be the same if she was here, and wouldn't let nobody look down upon
you and me," said the old woman.

"She's a wonderful girl, she is," said old Tozer. "Wind us all round her
little finger, that's what she could do--leastways, except when there
was principle in it, and there I stood firm. But I've done things for
Phoebe as I wouldn't have done for no other breathing, and she knew it. I
wouldn't give in to her tho' about church folks being just as good as
them as is more enlightened. That's agin' reason. But I've done things
for 'em along of her!--Ah! she's a wonderful girl is Phoebe--Phoebe,
Junior, as I always call her. There ain't her match between here and
London, and that's what I'll always say."

But we will not try to describe the glory and joy that filled Mr.
Beecham's house in the Terrace, when Mrs. Clarence Copperhead went back
there with all their friends to the wedding-breakfast, which was in the
very best style, and regardless of expense. Even at that moment it gave
Phoebe a little pang to see her mother in the bright colours which she
loved, but which made her so much pinker and fatter than wa