He mused over it a few days, then he borrowed a photograph of "the Little Missis" from Bessie, had a coloured enlargement taken from it, then had it framed in carved oak, with the words in gilt beneath: "The Little Missis. Subscribed for by a few grateful admirers."
The next step was to ask permission to hang it in the Council Chamber, which was readily granted. Thus in the very room where she had been spoken of as "a woman whose husband had been obliged to leave her," the portrait of "the Little Missis" had a place of honour.
It was months before Phebe knew anything of this, and when she did, so many other things had come to pass that her mind seemed too full to either grieve or be glad over it.
CHAPTER XXIX
CROWNED WITH JOY
Eighteen months had gone by since Ralph's death. Nothing of any unusual nature had occurred to Phebe or her household, except the completion of the Garden Scheme and the settling of the dispute between Hugh Black and his men. It had been a true resting-time, without any strain, without any need to study ways and means, and without any attempt to advance in any direction so far as outward things were concerned. And yet Phebe did not feel satisfied; there was something missing, life did not satisfy her in its present outlook. During Ralph's illness all her outside work had been given up, others had stepped in and carried it on, and she had never got back to her old place again entirely. This was not through any unwillingness on her part, it was simply that the way did not open up.
While Ralph was away there had always been a sense of strain and tension which had buoyed her on and on. Now that was removed, and there was no necessity to be on the alert, there had crept over her a weariness and lassitude.
"Nanna," she suddenly said one day, "I am going to leave you."
"Going to leave me!—never!"