“I know,” acknowledged Phœbe.
“Don’t you love anybody but Daddy and Mother?” asked Uncle Bob.
“Oh, yes.”
“I thought so! Grandma, and Uncle John, and a wee bit of love for yours truly——”
“And I love Miss Ruth.”
Uncle Bob sobered. He looked down, thoughtfully. “Miss Ruth,” he repeated. “Ah, yes. Who doesn’t love Miss Ruth.”
“Manila loves her,” confided Phœbe. “Sophie told me all about it. Miss Ruth has been so good to Manila. She calls Miss Ruth ‘Angel’.”
“But you—why, you hardly know Miss Ruth.” There was a strange expression on Uncle Bob’s face. He was looking at Phœbe, but he seemed to be thinking of something far away. “Why do you love her?”
Phœbe put her head on one side. “I don’t exactly know why,” she admitted. In her heart, she knew this was not strictly true. There was a reason for liking Miss Ruth. It had to do with Phœbe’s jealousy about a step-mother. Phœbe had noticed that of all the women whom her father knew, Miss Ruth, alone, never stopped when he met her, to smile and make herself agreeable, but only bowed pleasantly and passed on. In other words, Phœbe had no reason to fear Miss Ruth. “She’s nice,” she supplemented now. “And I—I just do.”
“I understand,” said Uncle Bob.