enting minister out of it--old-fashioned, not very refined perhaps,
as Mrs. Beecham allowed, but very kind, and the most doting of
grandfathers. The wisp of white neckcloth round his neck, and his black
coat, and a certain unction of manner all favoured the idea.
Theoretically, the young people knew it was not so, but the impression
on their imagination was to this effect. Mrs. Tozer was only
"grandmamma." She was kind too, and if rather gorgeous in the way of
ribbons, and dressing generally in a manner which Phoebe's taste
condemned, yet she came quite within the range of that affectionate
contempt with which youth tolerates the disadvantages of its seniors.
But the butterman's shop! and the entire cutting off from everything
superior to the grocers and poulterers of Carlingford--how would Phoebe
support it? This was what Mr. and Mrs. Beecham asked each other with
their eyes--and there was a pause. For the question was a tremendous
one, and neither knew in what way to reply.

"Phoebe, you are a very sensible girl--" said her father at last,
faltering.

"I beg your pardon, papa. I don't think you are treating me as if I were
sensible," said Phoebe. "I know well enough that grandpapa is in
business--if that is what you are afraid of--"

"Has been in business," said Mrs. Beecham. "Your grandpapa has retired
for some time. To be sure," she added, turning to her husband, "it is
only Tom that has the business, and as I consider Mrs. Tom
objectionable, Phoebe need not be brought in contact--"

"If Phoebe goes to Carlingford," said the pastor, "she must not be
disagreeable to any one. We must make up our minds to that. They must
not call her stuck up and proud."

"Henery," said Mrs. Beecham, "I can put up with a great deal; but to
think of a child of mine being exposed to the tongues of those Browns
and Pigeons and Mrs. Tom, is more than I can bear. What I went through
myself, you never knew, nor any one breathing--the looks they gave me,
the things they kept saying, the little nods at one another every time I
passed! Was it my fault that I was better educated, and more refined
like, than they were? In Mr. Vincent's time, before you came, Henery, he
was a very gentleman-like young man, and he used to come to the ----
High Street constantly to supper. It wasn't my doing. I never asked
him--no more than I did you!"

"Your father used to ask me," said Mr. Beecham, doubtfully. "It was very
kind. A young pastor expects it in