“Who are all?” asked Phronsie.
“Why, all of us in the Campbell’s drawing-room, child. What makes you question a body up so close. It doesn’t make any difference, does it, where or how I heard it, if everybody’s talking of it?”
“Everybody isn’t a few people in Mrs. Campbell’s drawing-room, Alexia,” said Phronsie; yet she sighed, and the bunch of flowers in her hand trembled a little.
This made Alexia more vexed than ever. “Well, there was Captain Sledges; he’s home on a furlough, you know; and, oh! the Romeynes from New York, and two or three others, besides some of our Berton set,” said Alexia. “Oh! there was quite a nice little lot, Phronsie, to hear the news. And I just tore out, I was so vexed, and only stopped to tell Baby, and”—
Phronsie turned her brown eyes full on Alexia. “I hope you stood up for poor Grace. She’s only sixteen, and she didn’t stop to think, she says.”
“I stand up for her—how could I?” cried Alexia. “I never saw the girl. Oh, dear me! now you’re going to take her part, and comfort and pet her. It’s just like you, Phronsie; I wouldn’t go near that Atherton house, nor even send a word to her.”
“It isn’t necessary,” said Phronsie, in the quietest of tones; “for Grace hasn’t been home, and she’s going to stay here, I hope, a good while.”
“She’s in this house?” screamed Alexia, tumbling off the sofa to gain her feet, “oh, my good gracious me, Phronsie Pepper!”
“Yes,” said Phronsie; “she’s in this house, Alexia. She fell yesterday, and hurt her foot very badly; and Dr. Phillips said this morning when he saw it, that she ought not to be moved for a week or two. And Polly’s had her clothes sent out, and I hope she’s going to stay a good while; for I like her, Alexia, very much indeed.”
It was a long speech for Phronsie to make; and she sat quite still after it was over, and looked at Mrs. Dodge.