“When you find the bill, or make up your mind what to do, you can send for me,” he said, and went away, suspicious and half-angry, leaving Tozer to his own devices. And the afternoon passed in the most uncomfortable lull imaginable. Though he believed his granddaughter to have it, he looked again over all his papers, his drawers, his waste-basket, every corner he had in which such a small matter might have been hid; but naturally his search was all in vain. Clarence returned in the afternoon, and was received by poor old Mrs. Tozer, very tremulous and ready to cry, who did not know whether she ought to distrust Phœbe or not, and hesitated and stumbled over her words till the young man thought his father had come in his absence, and that Phœbe had changed her mind. This had the effect of making him extremely eager and anxious, and of subduing the bragging and magnificent mood which the triumphant lover had displayed in the morning. He felt himself “taken down a peg or two,” in his own fine language. He went to the Parsonage and tried very hard to see Ursula, to secure her help in case anything had gone wrong, and then to Reginald, whose vexation at the news he felt sure of, and hoped to enjoy a sight of. But he could see no one in the absorbed and anxious house. What was he to do? He wandered about, growing more and more unhappy, wondering if he had been made to fling himself into the face of fate for no reason, and sure that he could not meet his father without Phœbe's support. He could not even face her relations. It was very different from the day of triumph he had looked for; but, as Phœbe had wisely divined, this disappointment, and all the attending circumstances, did not do him any harm.
It was late in the afternoon when Northcote called. He too had acted on the information given by Betsy, and had gone to Cotsdean, who made him vaguely aware that Tozer had some share in the business in which Mr. May was involved, and who, on being asked whether it could be set right by money, grew radiant and declared that nothing could be easier. But when Northcote saw Tozer, there ensued a puzzling game at cross purposes, for Tozer had no notion that Mr. May had anything to do with the business, and declined to understand.
“I ain't got nothing to do with parsons, and if you'll take my advice, sir, it 'ud be a deal better for you to give 'em up too. You're a-aggravating the connection for no good, you are,” said Tozer, surely by right of his own troubles and perplexities, and glad to think he could make some one else uncomfortable too.
“I shall do in that respect as I think proper,” said Northcote, who was not disposed to submit to dictation.
“Fact is, he's a deal too well off for a minister,” Tozer said to his wife when the young man disappeared, “they're too independent that sort; and I don't know what he means by his Mays and his fine folks. What have we got to do with Mr. May?”
“Except that he's been good to the child, Tozer; we can't forget as he's been very good to the child.”
“Oh, dash the child!” cried the old man, infuriated; “if you say much more I'll be sorry I ever let you see her face. What has she done with my bill?”
“Bill? if it's only a bill what are you so put out about!” cried Mrs. Tozer. “You'll have dozens again at Christmas, if that is all you want.”
But the laugh was unsuccessful, and the old man went back to his room to nurse his wrath and to wonder what had come to him. Why had his granddaughter interfered in his business, and what had he to do with Mr. May?
Phœbe got up refreshed and comfortable when it was time for the family tea, and came down to her lover, who had come back, and was sitting very dejected by old Mrs. Tozer's side. She was fresh and fair, and in one of her prettiest dresses, having taken pains for him; and notwithstanding Tozer's lowering aspect, and his refusal to speak to her, the meal passed over very cheerfully for the rest of the party, and the two young people once more withdrew to the garden when it was over. The presence of Clarence Copperhead protected Phœbe from all attack. Her grandfather dared not fly out upon her as before, or summon her to give up what she had taken from him. Whatever happened, this wonderful rise in life, this grand match could not be interfered with. He withdrew bitter and exasperated to his own den, leaving his poor wife crying and wretched in the family sitting-room. Mrs. Tozer knew that her husband was not to be trifled with, and that, though the circumstances of Phœbe's betrothal subdued him for the moment, this effect in all probability would not last; and she sat in terror, watching the moments as they passed, and trembling to think what might happen when the young pair came in again, or when Clarence at last went away, leaving Phœbe with no protection but herself. Phœbe, too, while she kept her dull companion happy, kept thinking all the while of the same thing with a great tremor of suppressed agitation in her mind; and she did not know what was the next step to take—a reflection which took away her strength. She had taken the bill from her trunk again and replaced it in her pocket. It was safest carried on her person, she felt; but what she was to do next, even Phœbe, so fruitful in resources, could not say. When Northcote came back in the evening she felt that her game was becoming more and more difficult to play. After a brief consultation with herself, she decided that it was most expedient to go in with him, taking her big body-guard along with her, and confiding in his stupidity not to find out more than was indispensable. She took Northcote to her grandfather's room, whispering to him on the way to make himself the representative of Cotsdean only, and to say nothing of Mr. May.