g after, he said. But not once did he see her alone. He
could not tell from their behavior whether she or her hostess was to
blame for his recurring disappointment; but the fact was, that his ring
at the door-bell was the signal to Juliet not to be alone.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE PASTOR'S STUDY.

Happening at length to hear that visitors were expected, Juliet,
notwithstanding the assurances of her hostess that there was plenty of
room for her, insisted on finding lodgings, and taking more direct
measures for obtaining employment. But the curate had not been idle in
her affairs, and had already arranged for her with some of his own
people who had small children, only he had meant she should not begin
just yet. He wanted her both to be a little stronger, and to have got a
little further with one or two of her studies. And now, consulting with
Helen, he broached a new idea on the matter of her lodgment.

A day or two before Jones, the butcher, had been talking to him about
Mr. Drake--saying how badly his congregation had behaved to him, and in
what trouble he had come to him, because he could not pay his bill. The
good fellow had all this time never mentioned the matter; and it was
from growing concern about the minister that he now spoke of it to the
curate.

"We don't know all the circumstances, however, Mr. Jones," the curate
replied; "and perhaps Mr. Drake himself does not think so badly of it as
you do. He is a most worthy man. Mind you let him have whatever he
wants. I'll see to you. Don't mention it to a soul."

"Bless your heart and liver, sir!" exclaimed the butcher, "he's ten
times too much of a gentleman to do a kindness to. I couldn't take no
liberty with that man--no, not if he was 'most dead of hunger. He'd eat
the rats out of his own cellar, I do believe, before he'd accept what
you may call a charity; and for buying when he knows he can't pay, why
he'd beg outright before he'd do that. What he do live on now I can't
nohow make out--and that's what doos make me angry with him--as if a
honest tradesman didn't know how to behave to a gentleman! Why, they
tell me, sir, he did use to drive his carriage and pair in London! And
now he's a doin' of his best to live on nothink at all!--leastways, so
they tell me--seem' as how he'd have 'em believe he was turned a--what's
it they call it!--a--a--a wegetablarian!--that's what he do, sir! But I
know better. He may be eatin' grass like a ox, as did that same old