ther
go to service, in which case I will not refuse to take the trouble to
look out a service for her--I am wishful to let her down gently, and be
very good to her; or, if she prefer that, she may have my Lady Betty's
house as soon as she is gone. Have you any idea which she will choose?"

"Service! The Maidens' Lodge! Rhoda!"

"My dear Phoebe, how very absurd you are. What do you mean by such
foolish ejaculations? Rhoda will be uncommonly well off. You forget
she has the interest of her money, and she has some good jewellery; she
may make a decent match yet, if she is wise. But in the meantime, she
must live somehow. Of course I could not keep her here--it would spoil
your prospects, simpleton! She has a better figure than you, and she
has more to say for herself. You must not expect any body to look at
you while she is here."

"Oh, never mind that!" came from the depth of Phoebe's heart.

"But, my dear, I do mind it. I must mind it. You do not understand
these things, Phoebe. Why, I do believe, with a very little
encouragement--which I mean him to have--Mr Welles himself would offer
for you."

"That is over, Madam."

"What is over? Phoebe! what do you mean? Has Mr Welles really spoken
to you?"

"Yes, Madam."

"When, my dear?" asked Mrs Latrobe, in a tone of deep interest.

"This afternoon, Madam!"

"That is right! I am so pleased. I was afraid he would want a good
deal of management. And you've no more notion how to manage a man than
that parrot. I should have to do it all myself."

"I beg your pardon, Madam," said Phoebe, with some dignity; "I gave him
an answer."

"Of course, you did, my dear. I am only afraid--sometimes, my dear
Phoebe, you let your shyness get the better of you till you seem quite
silly--I am afraid, I say, that you would hardly speak with becoming
warmth. Still--"

"I think, Madam, I was as warm as you would have wished me," said
Phoebe, drily.

"Oh, of course, there is a limit, my dear," said Mrs Latrobe, bridling.
"Well, I am so glad that it is settled. 'Tis just what I was wishing
for you."

"I fear, Madam, you misconceive me," said Phoebe, looking up, "and 'tis
settled the other way from what you wished."

"Child, what can you mean?" asked Mrs Latrobe, with sudden sharpness.
"You never can have refused such an excellent offer? What did you say
to Mr Welles?"

"I sent him away, and told him never to come near me again." Phoebe
spoke with warmth