It was market-day at Riversborough, and the greetings there were still more numerous, and, if possible, more kindly.

Everybody had a word for Phebe Marlowe; especially to-day, when her pretty black dress told of the loss she had suffered.
She made her way to Whitefriars Road.

The Old Bank was not so full as it had formerly been, for immediately after the panic last May a new bank had been opened more in the centre of the town, and a good many of the tradesmen and farmers had transferred their accounts to it.

The outer office was fairly busy, but Phebe had not long to wait before being summoned to see Mr.Clifford.The muscles of his stern and careworn features relaxed into something approaching a smile as she entered, and he caught sight of her sweet and frank young face.
"Sit down, Phebe," he said.

"I did not hear of your loss before yesterday; and I was just about to send for you to see your father's will.