By this time dinner was ready, for the Darings ate their heartiest meal in the middle of the day, in good Southern fashion.
While they dined, Cousin Judith said she would devote the afternoon to long private talks with each of her adopted children. She wanted them to tell her all about themselves, their hopes and trials and longings, and then she would be able to help them, individually, to better advantage.
Sue was closeted with the Little Mother first, because she was the youngest and most impatient. She emerged from Cousin Judith’s room bright-eyed and smiling, and then Don went in. One by one they had heart to heart talks with their newly adopted counsellor, the sessions of Phil and Phœbe being much the longest because they were older and had more to explain. When the conferences finally ended, Judith had gleaned much valuable information concerning the Daring household, and was prepared to assume her new duties with proper intelligence.
CHAPTER IX
PHŒBE HAS AN ADVENTURE
Perhaps no one was so greatly relieved by the advent of Cousin Judith as Phœbe Daring. The girl had keenly felt her responsibilities during the troubled months since her father’s death, and her days and nights had been filled with anxieties. Now, however, she could cast all worry to the winds, for the new head of the household, albeit gentle of demeanor, low voiced and cheery, had nevertheless a reserve force and power of command that inspired confidence, being in sharp contrast to Phœbe’s own inexperience and lack of self reliance.
Aunt Hyacinth also felt relief. She had not worried much, at any time; it wasn’t her way. But Phœbe’s girlish responsibilities were as nothing compared to those of the black mammy whose tenderly reared brood seemed, in these adverse times, to have become neglected and forsaken by all the world. She hailed Miss Eliot’s coming with joy and unfeigned gratitude, and when she understood that “Miss Judy,” as she called her in the old days, was to take charge of the household, she felt a great weight lifted from her brave old shoulders.
“I knows dem chill’ns ben runnin’ wild, Miss Judy,” she said earnestly, “but I ain’t got de eddication, ner de arg’mentation to keep ’em toein’ de chalk mark. It needs mo’ brains ner Aunt Hy’cinth’s got.”
One night, when Phœbe had been asleep for some time, she was roused by a peculiar sound in the next room—the room back of her own—occupied by old Miss Halliday. It was a faint but persistent sound, as of something sliding softly over a wooden surface, and now and then it was accompanied by the crooning voice of the housekeeper. She did not speak, at these times, but droned a long, sighing “m-m-m-m-m” that denoted both ecstasy and intense excitement. The sounds were all subdued and stealthy, but in the dead of night they were clearly heard by the girl, who became half frightened, wondering if old Elaine had gone mad.
While she lay in her bed listening, a sudden silence fell, followed by several gentle thumps which she could not explain. Then a chair was pushed back; Miss Halliday pattered softly across the floor—and perfect silence ensued.