Phoebe said gratefully that she would adore it, but fell back into despondency when she thought of her mother, whose consent she must get.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Mrs. Barton. ‘Your mother is coming to lunch to-morrow. I’ll speak to her about it.’
‘But I thought Mr. Johns was coming,’ said Alice.
‘Yes he is. When he said he wanted to come on Sunday I had quite forgotten about Mrs. Rivers. But your mother won’t mind meeting him, will she, Phoebe?’
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Phoebe. ‘She always likes talking about her books.’
Mrs. Barton felt pained by Phoebe’s bitter voice, but made no comment. Presently the car was announced and Phoebe got up to go. Somewhat to Mrs. Barton’s surprise, her guest suddenly flung her arms round her neck and kissed her fervently.
‘Do make mother let
