"Rebecca!"
The second call was a little louder than the first, and there was a queer half-sobbing, half-laughing catch in the speaker's voice that commanded attention.
Rebecca looked up.
Phœbe was still sitting on the floor beside her trunk, but the trunk was open now and the young woman's rosy face was peering with a pathetic smile over a—what!—could it be!
Rebecca leaned forward in amazement.
Yes, it was! In Phœbe's outstretched hands was the dearest possible little baby's undergarment—all of cambric, with narrow ribbons at the neck.
For a few seconds the two sisters looked at each other over this unexpected barrier. Then Phœbe's lips quivered into a pathetic curve and she buried her face in the little garment, laughing and crying at once.
Rebecca dropped helplessly into a chair.
"Phœbe Martin Wise!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean—hev you brought——?"
She fell silent, and then, darting at her sister, she took her head in her hands and deposited a sudden kiss on the smooth bright gold-brown hair and whisked out of Phœbe's room and into her own.