to speak of, but a
dull pain and aching conviction that all was not right. When he saw the
young lady entering the shop, Cotsdean's spirits rose a little, for a
new customer was pleasant, and though he thought he had seen her, he did
not know who she was. She was pleasant to look upon, and it was not
often that any one came so early. He came forward with anxious
politeness; the boy (who was always late, and a useless creature, more
expense than he was worth) had not appeared, and therefore Cotsdean was
alone.

"I wanted to speak to you, please," said Phoebe. "Will you mind if I
speak very plainly, without any ceremony? Mr. Cotsdean, I am Mr. Tozer's
granddaughter, and live with him at No. 6 in the Lane. I dare say you
have often seen me with Miss May."

"Yes--yes, Miss, certainly," he said, with a thrill of alarm and
excitement running through him. He felt his knees knock together under
cover of the counter, and yet he did not know what he feared.

"Will you please tell me frankly, in confidence, about----the bill which
was brought to my grandfather yesterday?" said Phoebe, bringing out the
question with a rush.

Whether she was doing wrong, whether she might bring insult upon
herself, whether it was an interference unwarrantable and unjustifiable,
she could not tell. She was in as great a fright as Cotsdean, and more
anxious still than he was; but fortunately her agitation did not show.

"What am I to tell you about it, Miss?" said the man, terrified. "Is it
Mr. Tozer as has sent you? Lord help me! I know as he can sell me up if
he has a mind; but he knows it ain't me."

"Don't speak so loud," said Phoebe, trembling too. "Nobody must hear; and
remember, you are never, never to talk of this to any one else; but tell
me plainly, that there may be no mistake. Is it--Mr. May?"

"Miss Tozer," said Cotsdean, who was shaking from head to foot, "if
that's your name--I don't want to say a word against my clergyman. He's
stood by me many a day as I wanted him, and wanted him bad; but as I'm a
living man, that money was never for me; and now he's a-gone and left me
in the lurch, and if your grandfather likes he can sell me up, and
that's the truth. I've got seven children," said the poor man, with a
sob breaking his voice, "and a missus; and nothing as isn't in the
business, not a penny, except a pound or two in a savings' bank, as
would never count. And I don't deny as he could sell me up; but oh!
Miss, he knows very we