Sophie thought so too.
CHAPTER X
That night, at supper, Phœbe viewed the members of her family with a new eye—with a fresh understanding. And was thrilled, as well as gratified in her vanity, by the thought that she knew quite as much about “everything” as they did. Now and then she stole a wise glance at Sophie, to which the latter gave no answering sign.
Other thoughts thrilled Phœbe even more: Daddy had stolen her!—caught her up and carried her off, precisely like the heroine in a drama! Then (delicious thought!) dear Mother had sent wire after wire—probably demanding Phœbe’s return! And had wanted to steal her back! How? Had Mother actually been here? Close? Right in the town? the neighborhood? Had she even caught glimpses of Phœbe, perhaps?
In the hour preceding her going up to bed, as she strolled with her father to the drug-store and back, she thought of a great many questions that she meant to ask Sophie the very first chance she had.
The chance came that evening. As Phœbe was on the point of falling asleep, her door opened stealthily, there was a cautious whisper to allay any alarm, then the door closed softly and Sophie turned on the light.
“Phœbe,” she began—her face was grave and her voice anxious; “you won’t say a word about my tellin’ you what I did this afternoon?”
“I won’t,” declared Phœbe.
“’Cause if the folks was to find out, they’d fire me.”
Phœbe took Sophie’s hand and made her sit on the bed. “Oh, there’s more I want to find out,” she whispered; “—lots more.”