“He sha’n’t,” she said firmly.
Other things happened that afternoon which made Uncle John’s conduct seem part of a conspiracy. For here came Grandma, bringing an apple-turnover. Phœbe particularly liked apple-turnovers. As she munched this one, letting the flakes of a deliciously rich crust fall upon the pages of “The Duchess”, she could not help but wonder if Sophie had not, for some reason, confessed the plot for that night, with the result that Grandma was resorting to bribery!
Next, Uncle Bob appeared. He had an oblong box in one hand. The box was elaborately tied with blue ribbon. It was chocolates, and they followed the fate of the turnover. No one had a word to say about supper, or Phœbe’s possible lack of appetite for it. She ate, and she read her novel openly. And—her conscience hurt more and more!
But darkness, the love of adventure, and a thirst for her favorite delight, helped her to feel indifference. Sophie was on the back porch when Phœbe came stealing down. Not a word was spoken as the latter sat on the bottom step to put on her shoes. The stars were out, the air was soft. When finally, hand in hand, they stole toward the back gate, the perfume of Grandma’s flower-beds gave place to the friendly odors of chicken-coop and stable, and they knew they were safe.
“Now,” said Sophie triumphantly, as the gate shut softly behind them.
“It’s like a regular movie,” whispered Phœbe. She danced up and down.
When they reached the theatre, they went warily. They waited in the foyer till the lights were lowered, after which they fairly stole into their chairs, in the last row. Here, shoulder to shoulder, with an occasional anxious glance about them, they sat through the program.
Just before the end of the last picture, Sophie touched Phœbe, motioning her to follow. They sought the foyer once more, and saw the end of the evening story from a position by the door. Then as the audience rose, out the pair flew, heads down, to the sidewalk.
Phœbe had not spoken while she was in the theatre. Now and then she had looked up at Sophie, or squeezed her arm gratefully. She was afraid of attracting attention to herself. But out in the open air she burst forth gaily. The gay music, the accustomed entertainment she loved, the excitement of again being part of a crowd, all combined to make her feel that she was back once more among the old, happy days. With Sally, she had been free to come and go. She loved freedom.
Something curious happened just after she and Sophie left the theatre. At first, while they were in the more crowded part of the town, Phœbe did not notice anything—she was too busy chattering. But when they were farther out toward the Blair Addition, Phœbe realized that a man was walking rather close behind them, crossing a street when they crossed it, turning corners when they turned. As they were nearly home the man suddenly came abreast of them, and greeted Sophie. And he seemed to be a very good friend of Sophie’s, for he took her arm.