She hesitated. “If I tell you, you won’t laugh?” she asked.
“I won’t laugh,” promised Uncle Bob, gravely.
“Because I want Daddy to see how mean and terrible step-mothers are,” explained Phœbe. “We were going to show him Mrs. Botts. And now the whole plot is spoiled.”
“So you think step-mothers are mean and terrible,” said Uncle Bob. And there was not even a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. On the contrary—he looked actually troubled!
All that she had longed to say to her father now surged to Phœbe’s lips. She dropped beside her uncle, and clung to him. “Oh, I don’t want a step-mother!” she cried. “Oh, Uncle Bob, help me! Keep Daddy from getting married again! You will, won’t you? A step-mother would whip me, and wear Mother’s clothes, and make Daddy hate me! Oh, Uncle Bob, you don’t think Daddy will bring one home?”
“Darling baby,” he said tenderly, “I know your Daddy won’t bring one home.”
“Oh, not a Peru woman!” pleaded Phœbe. “I don’t want one!”
“Don’t you worry. No Peru woman is going to get him.”
“But I don’t want anybody,” she persisted. “Oh, Uncle Bob!”
That was all. Except that when Phœbe had gone to Miss Ruth’s with Manila, and was nearing home again, Grandma came out to meet her. And Grandma was particularly tender to her, for some reason, and that very evening sat beside Phœbe’s bed for a little while, and chatted.