the sweetest manner: "I alluded to a building
hundreds of years older than your market-place--your beautiful
cathedral."

Fancy my not having thought of the cathedral! This is what comes of
being a Congregationalist. If I had belonged to the Church of England,
I should have forgotten the market-place, and remembered the cathedral.
Not that I want to belong to the Church of England. Papa's chapel is
good enough for me.

The song sung by the lady with the small voice was so pretty that the
audience encored it. Didn't Philip and I help them! With the sweetest
smiles the lady sang it all over again. The people behind us left the
concert.

He said: "Do you know, I take the greatest interest in cathedrals. I
propose to enjoy the privilege and pleasure of seeing _your_ cathedral
early next week."

I had only to look at him to see that I was the cathedral. It was no
surprise to hear next that he thought of "paying his respects to Mr.
Gracedieu." He begged me to tell him what sort of reception he might
hope to meet with when he called at our house. I got so excited in doing
justice to papa that I quite forgot to whisper when the next question
came. Philip wanted to know if Mr. Gracedieu disliked strangers. When
I answered, "Oh dear, no!" I said it out loud, so that the people heard
me. Cruel, cruel people! They all turned round and stared. One hideous
old woman actually said, "Silence!" Miss Staveley looked disgusted. Even
kind Mrs. Staveley lifted her eyebrows in astonishment.

Philip, dear Philip, protected and composed me.

He held my hand devotedly till the end of the performance. When he put
us into the carriage, I was last. He whispered in my ear: "Expect me
next week." Miss Staveley might be as ill-natured as she pleased, on the
way home. It didn't matter what she said. The Eunice of yesterday might
have been mortified and offended. The Eunice of to-day was indifferent
to the sharpest things that could be said to her.

.......

All through yesterday's delightful evening, I never once thought of
Philip's father. When I woke this morning, I remembered that old Mr.
Dunboyne was a rich man. I could eat no breakfast for thinking of the
poor girl who was not allowed to marry her young gentleman, because she
had no money.

Mrs. Staveley waited to speak to me till the rest of them had left us
together. I had expected her to notice that I looked dull and dismal.
No! her cleverness got at my secret in quite another way.