ext time we meet."

"I am quite sure of it," said the pastor, "and at the worst it was but
his manner--only his manner. In short, at the committee meeting
yesterday nothing could have been nicer. He went even out of his way to
send, as it were, a kind message to Phoebe. 'I needn't ask if Miss Phoebe
enjoyed herself,' he said. Depend upon it, my dear, if there was a
temporary annoyance it is both forgotten and forgiven, so far as Mr.
Copperhead is concerned."

"Forgiven!" Phoebe said to herself; but she thought it wiser to say
nothing audible on the subject. Her father and mother, it was evident,
were both disposed to extend any amount of toleration to the leading
member. It was he who was the best judge as to what he had a right to be
annoyed about. The family party were in Mr. Beecham's study, where the
large bust of Mr. Copperhead stood on the mantelpiece, the chief
decoration. How could any one be so wicked as to rebel against the
influence of so great a personage? Phoebe had her own ideas, but she was
wise and kept them to herself.

"And now," said Mrs. Beecham, solemnly, "what is to be done, my dear,
about this letter from my good papa?"

Phoebe was standing in front of a book-case, apparently looking for a
book. She said nothing; but it was easy to perceive by the erectness of
her shoulders, and the slight movement that ran through her, that her
attention was fully engaged.

"Ah, yes indeed, what about it?" the pastor said. He put down the pen,
which he had been holding in his hand by way of symbol that, amiable as
he was, his attention to his woman-kind was an encroachment upon time
which might be more usefully employed. But this was a serious question;
he had no suggestion to offer, but he sat and twiddled his thumbs, and
looked at his wife with interest suddenly aroused.

"There is a great deal to be thought of," said Mrs. Beecham, "it is not
a simple matter of family devotion. Of course if I had no other ties,
nor other duties, everything would be easy. I should go at once to my
poor suffering mamma."

Mrs. Beecham was a clever woman, but she had not been able to get it out
of her mind, owing to the imperfections of her education in youth, that
it was a vulgar thing to say father and mother. "But in the present
circumstances," she continued, her husband having given his assent to
this speech, "it is clear that I cannot do what I wish. I have you to
think of, my dear, and the children, and the duties of