Phebe pushed in between them.
“Go away, Miss Barry, and leave her alone, or I shall tell her husband how you have treated her,” she threatened.
Louise gave her a wicked glance.
“Tell him—but it will be at her peril,” she said, menacingly, as she trailed her rich garments through the door-way.
Phebe slammed the door and turned to her mistress, who had fallen down wearily on a sofa.
“I shall tell Mr. Cecil of this woman’s wicked treatment of you,” she exclaimed; but Molly held up a warning hand.
“No, no, you will not tell him,” she said. “I—I am not afraid of Louise. Oh, Phebe!” with sudden, irrepressible anguish, “is he not going to speak to me, is he going away from me like this?”
Phebe thought she had never seen such a terrible fear and dread as looked at her from Molly’s large, lustrous eyes that looked so big and bright in her small, pale face. Tears came into her own.
“He will come back directly, dear, I’m sure,” she said; but not being so sure as she pretended, she whisked out of the room in a hurry.
She saw Doctor Charley going away with the minister, and poking her head audaciously into the parlor, beheld Cecil Laurens the center of a condoling group, Miss Barry being close at his elbow.