“What do they know about your mamma’s plans?” Sophie retorted. “Maybe she’ll marry again.”
Phœbe threw back her head and laughed. “Marry again!” she cried. “My mother? She’d never do that! Never! She’ll come back. And I’ll live with her. I won’t stay here. Not one minute! Not——”
“Sh! Sh!” warned Sophie. “Don’t talk so loud. And just think over this: If your Maw don’t marry again, maybe Mister Jim won’t let you go back to her.”
“Why not?”
Sophie shook her head. “I don’t understand it myself,” she admitted. “Only I know that your Uncle Bob thinks there oughta be what he calls a reg’lar new home, with a husband in it to take care of your mamma.”
“Daddy would take care of Mother and me,” declared Phœbe, proudly. “I know Daddy.”
“But y’ see, after a divorce, your Daddy might want to be dead sure everything was right for you, and happy, and—and safe.”
“Safe!” repeated Phœbe, disdainful. “You don’t know New York. What could happen to me or Mother in our dear little apartment? Why, the whole thing—marrying again, and not being safe in New York—it’s just crazy!—Oh, Sophie, how long will it be before Mother is divorced? Oh, I hope it’s soon! Then I’ll have her! I’ll have her! Oh, Sophie!”
She gave Sophie a hug, and they promised each other not to breathe one word of their conversation.
“Don’t you see how much it’s like a movie?” Phœbe wanted to know. “Daddy steals me, then Mother tries to steal me back, then Nevada—why, it’s exactly like a movie. And a good movie!”