“What are you doing that for?” said the child. She raised her eyes; there came a frown between her brows; she looked full at Phoebe.
“I am so sorrowful about you, missy!” replied Phoebe.
There was something in Phoebe’s hearty tone that interested Nan. She hated Mrs. Richmond and Mrs. Vincent when they expressed their grief; even the dear old gentleman, Mr. Pryor, on the first floor was intolerable to her to-night. As to Miss Edgar, the old maid who lived on the second floor, Nan would have fled any distance from her; but there was something about Phoebe’s country tone, and her round face, and the tears which filled her blue eyes which touched Nan in spite of herself.
“I wish you would eat your supper, miss,” was Phoebe’s next remark.
Nan shook her head. After a time she spoke.
“If your mother had just gone to heaven, would you eat a big bowl of bread and milk?”
“Oh, lor’, miss! I don’t know.”
“Has your mother gone to heaven?” was Nan’s next question.
“Indeed and she has not, miss; I would break my heart if she had.”
“Oh!” said Nan.