“To think I did it while Daddy was away!” exclaimed Phœbe. Suddenly she felt amazed at the enormity of her own conduct. “How could I? Oh, Sophie!”
“That’s just why y’ could,” retorted Sophie, with a show of spirit. “Your maw’s gone, and your papa’s away, and you’re heart-broke. So, instead of lettin’ you cry your eyes out, I took you to the movies, and helped y’ forget. But none of them will understand.” She halted by the chicken-coop to look up at the house, dimly outlined against the sky.
Phœbe looked up too. Sophie’s last night! That was her thought. Her only comfort was to be taken from her. With new help at Grandma’s, what kind of a place would it be?
“Oh, Sophie,” she whispered, “let me go to Grandma’s room right now, and tell her, and ask her to forgive us both!”
“Tell! Oh, my goodness!”
“Or I’ll wake up Uncle Bob, Sophie! Oh, I can’t stand it!”
“Do you want me to be fired?”
They walked on a little. Phœbe’s head was down, her step lagged. She thought of Miss Ruth. If she could only turn aside to the Shepard house, standing white and temple-like in the starlight. There, so close, was one who would understand.
Sophie began to whisper again: “Don’t peep, darlin’. ’Cause we’re safe. I’ll watch the phone. If Mrs. Botts calls up, I’ll know what to say. If she writes, I’ll burn the letter. And if she dares show her ugly face——!”
They went up the back stairs like shadows. Usually Sophie did not see Phœbe into the latter’s room on late returnings from the theatre; but this time she entered, put on the light, turned down the bed, and said a fond good-night.