u're fit for something
better. I tease folks, but I'm not quite a black witch. Ta-ta.
_He'll_ not tease you now."

And Molly disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. There was no
opportunity for Phoebe to edge in a word. But, for once in her life,
she felt obliged to Molly.

The next invader of Phoebe's peace was Lady Delawarr herself. She sat
down on an ottoman, fanned herself languidly, and hoped dear Mrs Rhoda
was enjoying herself.

Phoebe innocently replied that she hoped so too.

"'Twill be a pretty sight, all the young maids in white, to meet the
Queen at Berkeley," resumed Lady Delawarr. "There are fourteen going
from this house. My three daughters, of course, and Lady Diana--she is
to hand the nosegay--and Mrs Rhoda, and Mrs Kitty Mainwaring, and Mrs
Sophia Rich, and several more. Those that do not go must have some
little pleasure to engage them whilst the others are away. I thought
they might drink a dish of chocolate in yon little ivy-covered tower in
the park, and have the young gentlemen to wait on them and divert them.
The four gentlemen of the best families and fortunes will wait on the
gentlewomen to Berkeley: that is, Mr Otway, Mr Seymour, my nephew Mr
George Merton, and Mr Welles. I shall charge Mr Derwent yonder to
wait specially on you, Mrs Phoebe, while Mrs Rhoda is away."

Phoebe perceived that she was not one of the fourteen favoured ones. A
little flutter of anxiety disturbed her anticipations. What would go on
with Rhoda and Mr Welles?

Lady Delawarr sat for a few minutes, talking of nothing in particular,
and then rose and sailed away. It was evident that the main object of
her coming had been to give Phoebe a hint that she must not expect to
join the expedition to Berkeley.

As Phoebe went upstairs that evening, feeling rather heavy-hearted, she
saw something gleam and fall, and discovered, on investigation, that a
tassel had dropped from Rhoda's purse, which that young lady had desired
her to carry up for her. She set to work to hunt for it, but for some
seconds in vain. She had almost given up the search in despair, when a
strange voice said behind her, "Le voici, Mademoiselle."

Phoebe turned and faced her countrywoman--for so she considered her--
with an exclamation of delight.

"Ah! you speak French, Mademoiselle?" said the girl. "It is a pleasure,
a pleasure, to hear it!"

"I am French," responded Phoebe, warmly. "My father was a Frenchman.
My name is Ph