“If I tell you, you’ll tell,” she charged.
“Cross my heart to die!” vowed Phœbe.
“Well, y’ see, the fact is the Judge just worships Miss Ruth.”
“O-o-oh.”
“Yes, he’s in love with her.—Now, don’t you dare say I told you, because I’d lose my job.—But he’s been in love with her since before you was born.”
“I don’t blame him,” declared Phœbe. “She’s dear, and she’s pretty. And I love her.”
A strange look came into Sophie’s eyes—a searching look. “Say! You let everybody see you love her, will y’?” she asked.
“Of course! Because I do.”
“You show your grammaw how y’ feel, and your uncles, and also your papa.”
“I will.”