"I have not the least reason to believe that Lady Western means to honour me with her friendship," said Vincent, haughtily--"so it is premature to discuss the matter. As I feel rather tired, perhaps you'll excuse me to-night. Come over to my rooms, Mr. Tozer, to-morrow, if you can spare a little time and we will discuss our business there. I hope Mrs. Tozer will pardon me withdrawing so early, but I am not very well--rather tired--out of sorts a little to-night." So saying, the young pastor extricated himself from the table, shook hands, regardless of all remonstrances, and made his way out with some difficulty from the little room, which was choke-full, and scarcely permitted egress. When he was gone, the three ladies looked at each other in dumb amazement. Phoebe, who felt herself aggrieved, was the first to break silence. "Ma and Mrs. Pigeon," cried the aggravated girl, "you've been and hurt his feelings. I knew you would. He's gone home angry and disappointed; he thinks none of us understand him; he thinks we're trying to humble him and keep him down, when, to tell the truth----" Here Phoebe burst into tears. "Upon _my_ word," said Mrs. Pigeon, "dear, deary me! It's just what I said whenever I knew you had made up your minds to a _young_ minister. He'll come a-dangling after our girls, says I, and a-trifling with their affections. Bless my heart, Phoebe! if it had been my Maria now that's always a-crying about something--but you! Don't take on, dear--fretting's no good--it'll spoil your colour and take away your appetite, and that ain't the way to mend matters: and to think of his lifting his eyes to my Lady Dowager! Upon _my_ word! but there ain't no accounting for young men's ways no more than for girls--and being a minister don't make a bit of difference, so far as I can see." "Why, what's the matter?" cried Tozer: "the pastor's gone off in a huff, and Phoebe crying. What's wrong? You've been saying somethin'--you women with your sharp tongues." "It's Phoebe and Mr. Vincent have had some words. Be quiet, Tozer--don't you see the child's hurt in her feelings?" said his wife. Mr. and Mrs. Pigeon exchanged looks. "I'll tell you what it is," said the latter lady, solemnly. "It's turned his head. I never approved of the Music Hall myself. It's a deal of money to throw away, and it's not like as if it was mercy to poor souls. And such a crush, and the cheering, and my Lady Western to shake hands with him, has turned the minister's head. Now, just you mark my words. He hasn't been here three month yet, and he's a-getting high already. You men'll have your own adoes with him. Afore a year's over our heads, he'll be a deal too high for Salem. His head's turned--that's what it is." "Oh, Mrs. Pigeon, how unkind of you!" cried Phoebe, "when he's as good as good--and not a bit proud, nor ever was--and always such a gentleman!--and never neglects the very poorest whenever he's sent for--oh, it's _so_ unkind of you."