“Phœbe!” laughed Miss Ruth. Then, suddenly grave, “Oh, you don’t know how it hurt to have you missing that day! Oh, Phœbe, I’m so happy that you’re just pretending!” Then, catching sight of the pumps, and, next, of the blue smock, “Why, Phœbe, this dress! Something’s happened!”
“No,” declared Phœbe, “not yet. But, Miss Ruth, get ready! Something’s going to happen!”
“To me?” Miss Ruth sat back. Her hair was rumpled. She looked very young and girlish.
“To both of us,” promised Phœbe, solemnly.
“Ho—ho!”
“It’s something awfully important,” cautioned Phœbe.
“Dear me! Well, I think I’d better get up, then, and be prepared.” Miss Ruth seated herself on the sofa. “Now! I’m all curiosity. Is there anything I’m supposed to do?”
Phœbe thought a moment. “Ye-e-es. Let me see.—I think you can lean back.”
“Ah!” Miss Ruth made herself comfortable against a cushion. “I like this, because I ran all the way over.” She smiled at Phœbe provokingly. “And now what?”
“Now try to look just as pretty as you can.”