" answered Lady Betty. "'Tis truly very good of you
to ask it; but you are always a general undertaker for your friends."

"We were sent into this world to do good, my Lady Betty," returned
Madam, sententiously.

Unless Phoebe's ears were deceived, a whisper very like "Fudge!" came
from Rhoda.

The somewhat solemn drive was finished at last; Lady Betty was set down
at the Maidens' Lodge; inquiries were made as to the health of Mrs
Marcella, who returned a reply intimating that she was a suffering
martyr; and Rhoda and Phoebe at last found themselves free from
superveillance, and safe in their bedroom.

"Now that's just jolly!" was Rhoda's first remark, with nothing in
particular to precede it. "Molly Delawarr's a darling! I don't much
care for Gatty, and Betty I just hate. She's a prig and a fid-fad both.
But Molly--oh, Phoebe, she's as smart as can be. Such parts she has!
You know, she's really--not quite you understand--but really she's
almost as clever as I am!"

Phoebe did not seem overwhelmed by this information; she only said, "Is
she?"

"Well, nearly," said Rhoda. "She knows fourteen Latin words, Molly
does; and she always brings them in."

"Into what?" asked Phoebe, with the little amused laugh which was very
rare with her.

"Into her discourse, to be sure, child!" said Rhoda, loftily, "You don't
know fourteen Latin words; how should you?"

"How should I, indeed," rejoined Phoebe, meekly, "if father had not
taught me?"

"Taught you--taught you Latin?" gasped Rhoda.

"Just a little Latin and Greek; there wasn't time for much," humbly
responded Phoebe.

"Greek!" shrieked Rhoda.

"Very little, please," deprecated Phoebe.

"Phoebe, you dear sweet darling love of a Phoebe!" cried Rhoda, kissing
her cousin, to the intense astonishment of the latter; "now won't you,
like a dear as you are, just tell me one or two Greek words? I would
give anything to outshine Molly and make her look foolish, I would! She
doesn't know one word of Greek--only Latin. Do, for pity's sake, tell
me, if 'tis only one Greek word! and I won't say another syllable, not
if Madam gives you a diamond necklace!"

Phoebe was laughing more than she had yet ever done at White-Ladies.
She was far too innocent and amiable to think of playing Rhoda the trick
of which Melanie's father was guilty, in _Contes a ma Fille_, when,
under the impression that she was saying in Latin, "Knowledge gives the
right to laugh at everything,"