The morning dawned in a fluff of gray fog that hung low down over the
avenue, though the sun showed signs of soon piercing the gloom. The clash
and clatter of the city was fast approaching a noonday roar but still
Phoebe slept in the room which adjoined that of Caroline Darrah Brown.
Caroline cautiously opened the door and stole in gently to the side of
the bed, then paused and looked down with delight. Phoebe, asleep, was a
thing calculated to bring delight to any beholder. The brilliant, casual,
insouciant, worldly Phoebe had gone out on a dream-hunt and a delicious
curled-up flower lay in her place, with turned lashes dipping against
soft tinted cheeks. Her head rested on one bare white arm and one hand
curled under her daintily molded chin. Caroline caught her breath--this
was a pathetic Phoebe when one thought of the most times Phoebe, cool,
self-reliant--perforce!
"The darling," she whispered to herself as she slipped to her knees by
the low bed, "I can't bear to wake her, but I'm afraid not to; it's an
hour late already. Dear!" She slipped her arm under the glossy head
and pressed a little kiss on the dimple over the northeast corner of the
warm lips.
Phoebe's gray eyes smiled themselves open for a fraction of a second,
then she nestled to Caroline's shoulder and calmly drifted off again in
pursuit of the dream.
"Dearie," Caroline begged, "it's after ten!"
Phoebe sighed, nestled closer and drifted again. Caroline settled herself
against the pillows and pressed her cheek against the thick black braid
that curled across the sleeper's bare shoulder. She was incapable of
another combat with the sleep-god and decided to wait. Besides, the awake
Phoebe was busy--and elusive--not given to bestowing or receiving aught
save the most fleeting caresses. So for a few moments Caroline Darrah's
arms held her hungrily.
"Be-autiful," came in a sleepy voice from against her arm, "is the water
cold?"
"Awful this morning," answered Caroline tightening her arms. "Just a
little hot, Phoebe, please! I'll tell Annette."
"No," answered Phoebe, as with a whirl of the covers she sat up and
took her knees into her embrace. "No, sweetie, in I go! The colder the
better after I'm in. How grand and Burne-Jonesy you look in that linen
pinafore--indulging in the life domestic? I think I catch a whiff of your
culinary atmosphere--and, oh, I--am so--hungry."
"Tempie has a dear little plump bird for you and some waffles and an
omelet. Let me have Annette bring them to you here! Please, Phoebe,
please!"
"Caroline Darrah Brown," said Phoebe in a tragic voice, "do you know I
gained a pound and a quarter last week and that makes me three and a half
pounds past the danger-mark? Two raw eggs and an orange is all I can have
this morning. I'm going to cry, I think!"