"You might as well have staid out the rest of the morning, and let me do everything," was her first exclamation. She was hurrying past, and did not, therefore, wait for a reply.
"Never mind," said Willie, in a low voice, as he saw the flash of anger dart up in his companion's eyes. "Take off Rover's harness and hasten around to help her about the dinner, will you? I will go and read, and perhaps think over what poor old Dimis said until you have got through. But promise me," he continued, playfully; "don't you think of her or a word she said, for it is not true."
"Perhaps we may better do as Fanny suggested, and go out for the rest of the morning. I wish we could." Willie smiled and wheeled himself into the house.
There were busy hands in the kitchen until after the dinner hour that day, but no cheerful word or kindly act were thrown in to lessen its tediousness or lighten the irksome burdens of the unwilling Phebe. The face upon which she looked was cold and hard, and a sort of oppressive bustle seemed to fill the very atmosphere. The knives were to be scoured and the potatoes washed for the noon meal, and her old dislike of this work had in no degree left her since she was the "good-for-nothing child" away in the fisherman's cot by the sea. The departed mother had often laughed at her aversion, and shielded her from its performance, but not so with the thrifty Fanny. Indeed, Phebe imagined that these were reserved for her for the reason that she "hated" to do them, and this morning they seemed more distasteful than ever before. It was with no very good grace, therefore, that she went about her task, and as she stood by the window with the unpolished knives beside her, she thought of her who was sleeping below the garden wall, and wondered if "she knew what she was doing, of her impatience and anger." And then the crazy woman's gibberings came back, "Flowers are not for everybody;" and "the thorns are sharp, little fools."
"I hope you will get them done in time to set the table," were the quick, sharp words that broke in upon her reverie, and brought in her gaze from the far-off to the labor before her. The door was open into the sitting room, where Willie was amusing himself with a book, and Phebe called out, "I don't like to scour knives and wash potatoes, and I won't, either. Do you remember it, Willie?" she laughed.
"Well, I guess you will," retorted Fanny. "I'd just like to know how you expect to get a living if you are going to do nothing except what you want to do. You are no better than I am, and I want you to do this every day; so keep to work at it, and not be looking out of the window."
Phebe turned, but caught sight of Willie's uplifted hand of warning just as a bitter retort darted to her lips, and for his sake she smothered her rage and resumed her hated labor. She did not enjoy any kind of work, and never hesitated to express her dislike for it. Perhaps, had circumstances altogether different from those that had surrounded her brightened up each compulsory service; or a word of love or praise been dropped now and then over the little burdens, it would have been otherwise. But she was a dreamer, a child with inborn fancies, possessing a soul where poetry and beauty reigned as twin sisters, growing and thriving upon each other's life, but she knew it not. She was only sure that her heart bounded in the sunshine of genial associations, and sank with equal velocity beneath the clouds of depressing influences. A cold word, a frown, would fill her soul with gloomy shadows for many hours, unless a warm sunbeam from some loving heart came to drive it away. Kind and cheerful as our little heroine usually was, there lay coiled up in her nature a demon of anger which sprang forth at every provocation with the fury of ungoverned passion. Poor child! It had goaded her long for one so young, and many times she had struggled to resist its power, but it proved stronger than her will. Love alone can subdue such natures, while opposition only feeds and nourishes their faults.
"Get out of my way!" exclaimed Fanny, as Rover was leisurely crossing her path, while a sudden movement of her substantial shoe gave a new impetus to his velocity. Phebe saw it, and her heart bounded with indignation. Dropping her work she darted forward, and throwing her arms around the neck of the noble dog exclaimed vehemently: "Why didn't you bite her, Rover? she shall not kick you!" A blow from the enraged Fanny, and a command to return to her work silenced her for a moment, then with the fierceness of a tiger she sprang upon her antagonist and dealt blow after blow upon the astonished Fanny before she had time to recover from her surprise, or to use her powers of defence. In a moment more, pale with anger and fright, the child was torn from her position by superior strength, and forced into her own little chamber with the command "not to leave it until she received permission." Here was a new feature in home affairs.
"This child, this pauper, shall go where she belongs! The poor-house is good enough for such as she! At any rate I shall not have such a wild-cat beneath my roof a great while!"
Willie listened to the ravings of his sister, while his heart throbbed with unconcealed emotion.