“Well, I’ll make her, then,” declared Mrs. Bayley, setting her teeth hard together.
Mr. Bayley laughed softly to himself.
“Hush! here she comes,” said Mrs. Bayley under her breath. “O Miss Phronsie!” she smiled sweetly on her.
“Did you want to see me?” asked Phronsie. “I beg your pardon for not stopping.”
Mr. Bayley got out of his steamer-chair, and pressed it upon her elaborately. “Do sit down, Miss Phronsie,” begged his wife cordially.
“Thank you,” said Phronsie, “but I cannot, Mrs. Bayley.”
“You never give me any of your time,” said that lady, calling to her aid a reproachful look, an expression that had always brought down other victims, “and you know I have some claim upon you, as my husband is an old friend of your family.” She hadn’t meant to say this when she began, but for some unaccountable reason her supply of words seemed to give out.
As this required no answer, Phronsie did not give any, but remained silent, standing by the steamer-chair.
“You have sufficient time for new friends,” said the lady with emphasis; “I have seen you with an old woman on the deck several times the last two days.”
“She needs me,” said Phronsie quietly; “she is all alone.”