"What shall you wear at this new sort of party of yours?" asked Annabel, wisely turning a deaf ear to all delicate or dangerous topics and keeping to matters she understood. "That white thing over there. It is fresh and pretty, and Phebe has one like it. I never want to dress more than she does; and gowns of that sort are always most appropriate and becoming to girls of our 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 round 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 courtesy 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 for ever; 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 poor-house. She could not help staring a little, as she watched the two friends work together, and listened to their happy talk over each new treasure as it came to light; for every look and word plainly showed that years of close companionship had made them very dear to one another. It was pretty to see Rose try to do the hardest part of any little job herself: still prettier to see Phebe circumvent her, and untie the hard knots, fold the stiff papers, or lift the heavy trays with her own strong hands; and prettiest of all to hear her say in a motherly tone, as she put Rose into an easy chair,-- "Now, my deary, sit and rest; for you will have to see company all day, and I can't let you get tired out so early." "That is no reason why I should let you either. Call Jane to help or I'll bob up again directly," answered Rose, with a very bad assumption of authority. "Jane may take my place downstairs; but no one shall wait on you here except me, as long as I'm with you," said stately Phebe, stooping to put a hassock under the feet of her little mistress.