ould Ursula if we could. And why should you
be so much grander than anybody else? I think it is quite childish for
my part."

"Reginald, never mind her, she is only a child and doesn't understand
('Child yourself,' cried Janey). I don't understand very well, but still
I can see what you want. Oh, you might find such quantities of work,
things nobody is ever found to do. What do the fellows do at Oxford that
they get that money for? I have heard you say you would be very glad to
get a fellowship--"

"That is different, that is a reward of scholarship."

"Well, and so is this too," said Ursula; "it is (I am sure) because the
old men knew you were one that would be kind. You were always kind,
Reginald, that is what it is for."

"The old men have nothing to do with it," he said, shaking his head, "it
is the Corporation, and they are--"

"Very rich men, Reginald dear, a great many of them, very sensible! what
does it matter about their education? And then you would be a really
educated man, always ready to do anything that was wanted in
Carlingford. Don't you see that was their meaning? They pay you for that
which is not work, but they will find you plenty of work they don't pay
for. That is what they mean; and oh, Reginald, to run over to you there
in that pretty wainscoted room, and to have you coming in to us every
day, and to know that you were there to stand by us!"

Here once more Ursula began to cry. As for Janey, she made a dash at the
writing-table and brought him paper and pens and ink, "Say yes, say
yes," she cried; "oh, Reginald, if it was only to spite papa!"

CHAPTER XVI.

THE NEW GENTLEMAN.

It seems difficult to imagine what connection there could be between
Phoebe Beecham's appearance in Grange Lane and the interview which took
place there between her and the "new gentleman," and Mr. May's sudden
onslaught upon his family, which ended in Reginald's acceptance of the
chaplaincy. But yet the connection was very distinct. Not even the Mays,
in their excitement over the appearance of a stranger in Carlingford,
could be more surprised than Phoebe was when her solitary walk was
interrupted by the apparition across the street of a known person, a
face familiar to her in other regions. "Mr. Northcote!" she cried, with
a little start of surprise. As for the stranger, he made but two steps
across Grange Lane in his delight at the sight of her. Not that he was
Phoebe's lover, or possessed by any prev