“It’s so nice to see you again,” went on the Principal. “Oh, my dear, we’ve missed you so much!”
“Thank you.”
Such straight looking out of those frank eyes, and such cool poise, was most disconcerting. Miss Simpson, with a smile that was wholly muscular, changed the subject by bending down to Phœbe’s book. “‘Kenilworth’?” she cried in delighted surprise. “Do you enjoy it, Phœbe?”
“I love it,” answered Phœbe, with quiet sincerity. “Every day I read it with Uncle John—Sir Walter Scott in twelve volumes.”
Miss Simpson turned to Grandma, waiting and smiling and nodding her white head at the far end of the library table. “Dr. Blair must be such a great help to Phœbe,” she declared.
“Oh, he is.” Phœbe did not wait for Grandma. “Uncle John is my tutor, and I like having a tutor.”
Miss Simpson fell back a step, as at some new and disconcerting thought. “Do you, dear?” she murmured, and sank, still staring at Phœbe, to a convenient chair.
“I do,” returned Phœbe. “You know princesses always have governesses and tutors. I’ve seen them in the movies.”
“The movies!” exclaimed Miss Simpson.
“But Phœbe doesn’t go to them,” said Grandma, quickly. “Dear Phœbe, you know you don’t.”