"I know you will," and for the second time that evening he stretched out his hand to grasp another in a close grip. "The lamb is not on any hillside, but in a back parlour."
"Whose parlour?"
"A draper's."
"You don't mean to say it's my Miss Phebe?" bending anxiously towards him, trying to read all she could from his face.
"Yes."
"Is she ill?—I must go to her at once."
"Not ill in body, but heartsick, and in monetary difficulties."
"Oh, dear, dear, what can have caused it all? And me not to know a word of it!"
"She has told no one but her father and sister. I got to know of it in another way; but do not ask me how—some day I may tell you, but not now."
"Where is her husband?"