He rose, crushing the wire and thrusting it into a pocket “Where is my mother?” he asked the girl.
“In the dinin’-room.”
In obedience to his gesture, Sophie went out. He turned to Phœbe. “I must see Uncle Bob,” he said quietly. Then, leaning to lift her to her feet, “And you go into the garden for a little while, till Daddy wants you.” He kissed her.
Phœbe asked no other question. She was used to mystery, to being bewildered. But she knew something had happened—something out of the ordinary. It was no business telegram that could drive the color from her father’s face and set his fingers to trembling. As she walked over the lawn she reflected that, after all, everyday life very closely resembled the “movies”.
CHAPTER XIII
It was Grandma who came for Phœbe. And the latter saw that there was no smile on the kind old face, and that Grandma’s head was shaking very hard. Hand in hand, silently, the two went into the library.
Uncle John was there, leaning against the mantel. Though his look was lowered, Phœbe knew that he was angry. Uncle Bob stood nearby, hands in pockets. He nodded Phœbe a greeting. Phœbe’s father was not there. And Phœbe wondered.
“Little old dumpling,” said Uncle Bob. She came to him, and he looked down at her with a tender smile.
“Yes?” There was more curiosity than concern in her voice.
“A telegram has just come from—from Nevada,” went on Uncle Bob.