“What are you doing in this room, Miss Halliday?” she asked, not even a tremor in her voice.
For a moment Elaine was daunted. Then she recovered, and advancing a pace toward Phœbe cried in tones of concentrated fury:
“I want my money!”
“Do I owe you anything?” was the stern demand.
The woman’s glaring eyes were fixed upon Phœbe’s upturned face, trying to read her inmost thoughts. The girl dropped her lashes a bit, examining her work, and a slight flush stole into her cheeks in spite of her efforts to appear composed. In a flash the woman detected these signs, and her confidence was instantly restored.
“You can’t fool me, Phœbe Daring!” she exclaimed harshly. “You unlocked that door—the door I had forbidden you to open.”
“Miss Halliday! you forget yourself. My grandfather’s servant has no right to dictate in this house,” said the girl, haughtily.
Elaine gave a short laugh, full of venom and disdain.
“Servant, eh?” she retorted. “And whose house do you suppose this is?”
The challenge roused Phoebe to anger and swept away the last vestige of her composure.