n that knowledge, Phoebe.'

'If I were of any use--'

'Yes, Phoebe, this visit has made you my friend instead of my
playfellow.'

Phoebe's deepening colour showed her intense gratification. 'And there
are the Sundays,' added Honor. 'I trust Miss Fennimore will let you come
to luncheon, and to the second service with me.'

'I will try very hard!'

For Phoebe could not help feeling like the canary, who sees his owner's
hand held out to catch him after his flight, or the pony who marks his
groom at the gate of the paddock. Cage and rein were not grievous, but
liberty was over, and free-will began to sink into submission, as the
chimneys of home came nearer, even though the anticipation of her
sister's happiness grew more and more on her, and compensated for all.

Shrieks of ecstasy greeted her; she was held as fast as though her
sisters feared to lose her again, and Miss Fennimore showed absolute
warmth of welcome. Foreign tongues were dispensed with, and it was a
festival evening of chatter, and display of purchases, presents, and
commissions. The evidences of Phoebe's industry were approved. Her
abstracts of her reading, her notes of museums and exhibitions, her
drawing, needlework, and new pieces of music, exceeded Miss Fennimore's
hopes, and appalled her sisters.

'You did all that,' cried Bertha, profiting by Miss Fennimore's absence;
'I hope to goodness she won't make it a precedent.'

'Wasn't it very tiresome?' asked Maria.

'Sometimes; but it made me comfortable, as if I had a backbone for my
day.'

'But didn't you want to feel like a lady?'

'I don't think I felt otherwise, Maria.'

'Like a grown-up lady, like mamma and my sisters?'

'O examples!' cried Bertha. 'No wonder Maria thinks doing nothing the
great thing to grow up for. But, Phoebe, how could you be so stupid as
to go and do all this heap? You might as well have stayed at home.'

'Miss Fennimore desired me!'

'The very reason why I'd have read stories, and made pictures out of
them, just to feel myself beyond her talons.'

'Talents, not talons,' said Maria. 'Cats have talons, people have
talents.'

'Sometimes both, sometimes neither,' observed Bertha. 'No explanation,
Phoebe; what's the use? I want to know if Owen Sandbrook didn't call you
little Miss Precision?'

'Something like it.'

'And you went on when he was there?'

'Generally.'

'Oh! what opportunities are wasted on some people. Wouldn't I have had
fun!