But half an hour later, when Gatty was asleep, Rhoda said to Phoebe,—
“I have made up my mind, Phoebe.”
“Have you?” responded Phoebe. “What about?”
“I mean to marry Marcus Welles.”
“Has he asked you?” said Phoebe, rather drily.
“Yes,” was Rhoda’s short answer.
Phoebe lay silent.
“Well?” said Rhoda, rather sharply.
“I think, Cousin, I had better be quiet,” answered Phoebe; “for I am afraid I can’t say what you want me.”
“What I want you!” echoed Rhoda, more sharply than ever. “What do I want you to say, Mrs Prude, if you please?”