Phronsie allowed one foot to gently trace the pattern on the carpet before she answered.  “I know you are very old,” she said at last, “but I cannot tell my thoughts to you.”

“Very old!” cried Mrs. Chatterton, her chin in the air.  “Indeed! well, I am not, I would have you know, Miss Phronsie,” and she played with the silk cord of her satin wrapper.  “I hate a child that is made a prig!” she added explosively under her breath.

Phronsie made no reply, being already deep in her own calculations once more.

“Now, Phronsie,” said Mrs. Chatterton, suddenly drawing herself out of her angry fit, and clearing her brow, “I want you to give your attention to me a moment, for I have something I must say to you.  That’s why I came in here, to find you alone.  Come, look at me, child.  It isn’t polite to be staring at the carpet all the time.”

Phronsie, thus admonished, took her gaze from the floor, to bestow it on the face above her.

“It’s something that nobody is to know but just you and me,” began Mrs. Chatterton, with a cautious glance at the door.

Then she got out of her chair, and going across the room, closed it carefully.  “There, that’s better; Polly is always around.  Now we are quite alone,” coming back to her seat.

“You see, Phronsie,” she proceeded, not caring that the brown eyes were slowly adding to their astonishment an expression that augured ill for any plans she might be hoping to carry out toward propitiation.  “It is necessary to be careful not to be overheard, for what I am going to say to you must be kept quite secret.”

“I must tell Mamsie,” said Phronsie distinctly.

“Indeed you will not,” declared Mrs. Chatterton.  “She is the very one of all others who ought not to know.  You can help her, Phronsie, if you only keep quiet.”

Phronsie’s eyes now became so very large that Mrs. Chatterton hastened to add: 

“You know Polly is learning to be a music teacher when she grows up.”

Phronsie made no reply.

“And a very creditable one she will be, from all acounts I can gather,” contributed Mrs. Chatterton carelessly.  “Well, Ben is doing well in Cabot & Van Meter’s, so he’s no trouble to your mother.  As for the two boys, I know nothing about them, one way or the other.  But you, as you are a girl, and the only one not provided for, why, I shall show a little kindness in your direction.  It’s wholly disinterested and quixotic, I know,” added Mrs. Chatterton, with a sweeping gaze at the walls and ceilings, “for me to give myself a thought about you or your future.  And I shall never receive so much as a thank you for it.  But I’ve passed all my life in thinking of others, Phronsie,” here she brought down her attention to the absorbed little countenance, “and I cannot change now,” she finished pensively.

A silence fell upon them, so great that Mrs. Chatterton broke it nervously.  “Goodness me, Phronsie, you are not like a child; you are too uncanny for anything.  Why don’t you ask questions about my secret?”