casions.

"Good God!" cried Amelius, "has anything happened to Regina?"

"No, sir," Phoebe murmured behind the handkerchief. "Miss Regina is at
home, and well."

"Then what are you crying about?"

Phoebe forgot her mistress's gentle method. She answered, with an
explosion of sobs, "I'm ruined, sir!"

"What do you mean by being ruined? Who's done it?"

"You've done it, sir!"

Amelius started. His relations with Phoebe had been purely and entirely
of the pecuniary sort. She was a showy, pretty girl, with a smart
little figure--but with some undeniably bad lines, which only observant
physiognomists remarked, about her eyebrows and her mouth. Amelius was
not a physiognomist; but he was in love with Regina, which at his age
implied faithful love. It is only men over forty who can court the
mistress, with reserves of admiration to spare for the maid.

"Sit down," said Amelius; "and tell me in two words what you mean."

Phoebe sat down, and dried her eyes. "I have been infamously treated,
sir, by Mrs. Farnaby," she began--and stopped, overpowered by the bare
remembrance of her wrongs. She was angry enough, at that moment, to be
off her guard. The vindictive nature that was in the girl found its way
outward, and showed itself in her face. Amelius perceived the change,
and began to doubt whether Phoebe was quite worthy of the place which
she had hitherto held in his estimation.

"Surely there must be some mistake," he said. "What opportunity has Mrs.
Farnaby had of ill-treating you? You have only just got back to London."

"I beg your pardon, sir, we got back sooner than we expected. Mrs.
Ormond had business in town: and she left Miss Regina at her own door,
nearly two hours since."

"Well?"

"Well, sir, I had hardly taken off my bonnet and shawl, when I was sent
for by Mrs. Farnaby. 'Have you unpacked your box yet?' says she. I
told her I hadn't had time to do so. 'You needn't trouble yourself to
unpack,' says she. 'You are no longer in Miss Regina's service. There
are your wages--with a month's wages besides, in place of the customary
warning.' I'm only a poor girl, sir, but I up and spoke to her as plain
as she spoke to me. 'I want to know,' I says, 'why I am sent away in
this uncivil manner?' I couldn't possibly repeat what she said. My blood
boils when I think of it," Phoebe declared, with melodramatic vehemence.
"Somebody has found us out, sir. Somebody has told Mrs. Farnaby of your
private meeting with Mis