“Indeed,” said Mr. Richard Tallant, in a whisper, as he stood quietly smoking a cigar near the open doorway of the summer-house. “The conversation becomes interesting.” “In what respect?” asked Phœbe. “Why, dear, Paul has made every possible inquiry, and he pronounces him to be no better than a swindler; and he says many men have been transported and hanged who have done nothing worse than Mr. Gibbs has done,” said Amy, with animation. “Those are strong words, Amy,” said Miss Tallant. “They are, by Jove!” said her brother to himself; “but true, I believe, by my soul!” “Not too strong, I fear, Miss Tallant,” Amy went on; “and----but I would rather not show you the letter.” “Now you are getting angry, _Miss_ Somerton,” said Amy, kissing her companion’s cheek. “Forgive me, dear Phœbe; I did not mean to use that odious word, ‘Miss.’” And then the two girls kissed each other, and Amy handed Paul’s letter to Miss Tallant without more ado. “By Jove!” said Richard Tallant to himself, “that sister of mine is a perfect fool. The bailiff’s daughter is fairly master of her; and, egad, I don’t wonder at it.” “This is indeed dreadful. Your brother has certainly been indefatigable. Richard the associate of gamblers and the loosest men in town, and sanctioning a plot to ruin Mr. Hammerton! This truly is sad news,” said Miss Tallant, reading Paul’s letter, and commenting upon it as she read. “Yes, by Jove!” said Mr. Richard Tallant, dropping the remains of his cigar, and crushing it under his heel. “So-ho, Master Sneak! I’ll be even with you, my fine fellow. A devilish nice thing to be tracked about by a junior clerk, set on by his sister, the daughter of my father’s bailiff. We’ll see about this. Shall I play the eaves-dropper any longer?” “And what have you said in reply?” Phœbe asked, folding the letter, and returning it to Amy. “I have told Paul he must warn Mr. Hammerton in some way; that he must take means to let him know that he is being duped.” “You are putting too much on the boy’s shoulders, I think,” said Phœbe. “Oh! I wish I were a man for one month--just for a month, Phœbe,” said Miss Somerton, starting from her seat, her eyes sparkling, and her little mouth pursed up. “But, alas! I am only a woman, and a vain, weak, silly creature, I fear,” she continued, re-seating herself and sighing. “Weak and silly!” said Phœbe, quietly. “Why weak and silly?” Then dropping her voice and putting her arm round Amy’s waist, she asked: “Do I know why you call yourself weak and silly?” Amy started and blushed, and bent her head, spirited and full of mettle as she appeared to be a moment previously. “Don’t blush, Amy dear. Do I know why you blush?” and Phœbe kissed her companion’s forehead. “I am a vain, silly, stupid creature, Phœbe; and you must despise me.” Phœbe only pressed her friend’s hand in reply.