“She talked of it,” said Phoebe, pitifully.
“I am not going there,” responded Rhoda, in a decisive tone. “I’ll go to service first. Perhaps, I can come down so much, away from here; but to do it here, where I thought to be mistress!—no, I could not stand that, Phoebe.”
“I am sorry you have to stand any of it, dear Rhoda.”
“You are a good little thing, Fib; I could not bear you to pity me if you were not. If Aunt Anne had but half your—”
“Phoebe, where are you? Really, my dear, I am quite shocked at your negligence! Carry the young gentlewomen up to their chambers, and let Rhoda wait on them. I take it extreme ill you should have left them so long. Do, my dear, remember your position!”
Remember her position! Phoebe was beginning to wish heartily that she might now and then be permitted to forget it.
The four girls went upstairs together.
“I say, Fib, did you ever shoot a waterfall in a coble?” inquired Molly.
Phoebe felt safe in a negative.
“Because I’ve heard folks say who have, that ’tis infinitely pleasant, when you come alive out of it; but then, you see, there’s a little doubt about that.”