d 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 was needful.
Little Mrs. Copperhead, in dim neutral tints, looked like a little
shadow beside the pastor's buxom wife, and was frightened and ill at
ease and sad to the heart to lose her boy, who had been all she
possessed in the world. Sophy Dorset, specially asked for the purpose
with Ursula May, who was a bridesmaid, looked on with much admiration at
the curious people, so rich, so fine, and so overwhelming, among whom
her father had found it so remarkable to meet not one person whom he
knew. "Now, Ursula," she said, "if you had played your cards properly
that beautiful bridegroom and that nice little house in Mayfair, and the
privilege, perhaps, of writing M.P. after your name some time or other,
might all have been yours instead of Miss Beecham's. Why did you let her
carry off the prize?"

"Cousin Sophy!" cried Ursula indignantly. "As if I ever thought of him
as a prize! But I know you are only laughing at me. The strange thing is
that she likes him, though I am sure she knew very well that
Reginald--Oh, when one thinks how many people there are