“’Tis time you were abed, maids,” said Madam.
Rhoda somewhat slowly rose, knelt before her grandmother, and kissed her hand.
“Good-night, my dear. God bless thee, and make thee a good maid!” was Madam’s response.
Phoebe had risen, and stood, rather hesitatingly, behind her cousin. She was doubtful whether Madam would be pleased or displeased if she followed Rhoda’s example. In her new life it seemed probable that she would not be short of opportunities for the exercise of meekness, forbearance, and humility. Madam’s quick eyes detected Phoebe’s difficulty in an instant.
“Good-night, Phoebe,” she said, rising.
“Good-night, Madam,” replied Phoebe in a low voice, as she followed Rhoda. It was evident that no relationship was to be recognised.
“Here, you carry the candle,” said Rhoda, nodding towards the hall table on which the candlesticks stood. “That’s what you are here for, I suppose,—to save me trouble. Dear, I forgot my cloak,—see where it is! Bring it with you, Phoebe.”
Demurely enough Rhoda preceded Phoebe upstairs. But no sooner was the bedroom door closed behind them, than Rhoda threw herself into the large invalid chair, and laughed with hearty amusement.
“Oh, didn’t I take her in? Wasn’t it neatly done, now? Didn’t you admire me, Phoebe?”
“You told her a lie!” retorted Phoebe, indignantly.