age."

"Phebe! You don't mean to say you are going to make a lady of
her!" gasped Annabel, upsetting her treasures as she fell back with
a gesture that made the little chair creak again, for Miss Bliss was
as plump as a partridge.

"She is one already, and anybody who slights her slights me, for
she is the best girl I know and the dearest," cried Rose warmly.

"Yes, of course I was only surprised you are quite right, for she
may turn out to be somebody, and then how glad you'll feel that
you were so good to her!" said Annabel, veering around at once,
seeing which way the wind blew.

Before Rose could speak again, a cheery voice called from the
hall, "Little mistress, where are you?"

"In my room, Phebe, dear," and up came the girl Rose was going to
"make a lady of," looking so like one that Annabel opened her
china-blue eyes and smiled involuntarily as Phebe dropped a little
curtsey in playful imitation of her old manner and said quietly:
"How do you do, Miss Bliss?"

"Glad to see you back, Miss Moore," answered Annabel, shaking
hands in a way that settled the question of Phebe's place in her
mind forever, for the stout damsel had a kind heart in spite of a
weak head and was really fond of Rose. It was evidently "Love me,
love my Phebe," so she made up her mind on the spot that Phebe
was somebody, and that gave an air of romance even to the