you ought to go and see about the horse and the
dog-cart?" she said suddenly, turning to her lover with one of those
sudden changes which kept the dull young man amused. "You don't know
what they may be about."

"They can't be up to much," said Clarence. "Thank you, Miss Phoebe, I
like you better than the mare."

"But you can't be here all day, and I can't be here all day," she said.
"I must look after grandmamma, and you ought to go down and inquire
after poor Mr. May--he is so ill. I have been there all night, helping
Ursula. You ought to go and ask for him. People don't forget all the
duties of life because--because a thing of this sort has happened--"

"Because they've popped and been accepted," said graceful Clarence. "By
Jove! I'll go. I'll tell young May. I'd like to see his face when I tell
him the news. You may look as demure as you like, but you know what
spoons he has been upon you, and the old fellow too--made me as jealous
as King Lear sometimes," cried the happy lover, with a laugh. He meant
Othello, let us suppose.

"Nonsense, Clarence! But go, please go. I must run to grandmamma."

Mr. Simpson had gone in, and Phoebe's heart had begun to beat loudly in
her throat; but it was not so easy to get rid of this ardent lover, and
when at last he did go, he was slightly sulky, which was not a state of
mind to be encouraged. She rushed upstairs to her grandmother's room,
which was over the little room where Tozer sat, and from which she could
already hear sounds of conversation rapidly rising in tone, and the
noise of opening and shutting drawers, and a general rummage. Phoebe
never knew what she said to the kind old woman, who kissed and wept over
her, exulting in the news.

"I ain't been so pleased since my Phoebe told me as she was to marry a
minister," said Mrs. Tozer, "and this is a rise in life a deal grander
than the best of ministers. But, bless your heart, what shall I do
without you?" cried the old woman, sobbing.

Presently Tozer came in, with an air of angry abstraction, and began to
search through drawers and boxes.

"I've lost something," he answered, with sombre looks, to his wife's
inquiry. Phoebe busied herself with her grandmother, and did not ask what
it was. It was only when he had searched everywhere that some chance
movement directed his eyes to her. She was trembling in spite of
herself. He came up to her, and seized her suddenly by the arm. "By
George!" he cried, "I'm in a dozen m