Phebe, Her Profession - A Sequel to Teddy: Her Book | Page 7

where you left Mrs. Farrington?"
"Yes."
"What made you do it, Babe?"
"The Ellertons were there on their way home, and I could travel with

them. I didn't care to cross half the continent alone, even if I am an
American girl."
"No; I don't mean that. What made you come home now?"
"A declaration of independence," Phebe responded enigmatically.
Theodora looked anxious.
"But I hope you didn't hurt Mrs. Farrington's feelings, leaving her so
suddenly after all she had done for you."
"I am not a child, Teddy, and I think you might trust me," Phebe
answered, with an access of dignity.
"I do, dear; only I couldn't understand your coming home so abruptly,
and I was afraid there might have been some trouble between you and
Mrs. Farrington."
Phebe shook her head.
"No; Mrs. Farrington is an angel. You can't imagine how good to me
she has been. She has always managed to make me feel that it was only
for her own pleasure that she asked me to go with her. If I had been her
own daughter, she couldn't have been more kind to me, and I know she
was sorry to have me come away."
"Then why didn't you stay? Were you homesick, Babe?"
"Not for an hour; I'm not that kind. I missed you all; but I was very
happy, and I knew you didn't need me here."
"What made you come home, then?"
Phebe pushed the gowns aside and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Has it ever occurred to you, Teddy," she asked slowly; "that two years
is a great while?"

"Yes; but what then? You were happy."
"I know; but it was a child's happiness, and I am a woman, twenty-two
years old. It was lovely to wander over Europe, to wear pretty gowns
and to meet charming people, and let Mrs. Farrington pay all the bills."
"But if she loved to do it, Babe? She did."
"Yes, she was fond of me," Phebe admitted; "and she wanted me to
stay for one more year."
"I wish you had."
Phebe shook her head.
"I couldn't. At first, I thought it would be delightful, and all our plans
were made. Then, one night, I couldn't sleep at all, for thinking about it.
By morning, my mind was made up; and then,--"
"And then?" Theodora asked.
Phebe rose and bent over the trunk once more.
"And then I came home," she said quietly.
There was a long pause. Theodora was aimlessly turning over the
photographs in her lap, while Phebe methodically packed away the
contents of her trunk. The room was quite orderly again before either of
the sisters spoke. Then Theodora asked,--
"What are you going to do now, Babe?"
"Study."
"Study what?"
"Medicine."
"Phebe McAlister!"

A sudden flash of merriment came into the shrewd eyes.
"That is my name," she observed. "Do you remember how you worked
at Huntington's to get money for college? It is my turn now."
"I remember how you scolded me for it," Theodora responded tartly.
"What has turned you to this whim, Babe?"
"It is no whim. It is a good profession, and other women no smarter
than I, have succeeded in it."
"You are smart enough, Babe; it's not that. But why do you want to do
anything of the kind?"
"What should I do? I sha'n't marry. Billy is the only man I ever liked.
You took him, and you appear to be in rude health, so there is no
chance for me. I must do something, Teddy, something definite. I can't
potter round the house, all my days. The mother is housekeeper; I must
have something more absorbing than dusting and salads and amateur
photography to fill up my time."
Theodora laughed at the outburst. Then, as she sat looking up at her tall
young sister, a sudden gentleness crossed her face. In their childhood,
she and Phebe had always clashed. To-day, for the first time, she felt a
full comprehension of the girl's point of view.
"Things are out of joint, Teddy," Phebe was saying. "It is all right for a
boy to be restless and eager to find his place; but we girls must trot up
and down one narrow path, all our days. Sometimes I don't mind it; but
there come times when I want to knock down the fences and break
away into a new track of my own, a track that goes somewhere, not a
promenade. I want to have a goal and keep moving toward it, not swing
this way and that like a pendulum. Europe was lovely, and Mrs.
Farrington; but--I'm queer, Ted. There is no getting around the fact."
Phebe brushed away a tear that hung heavy on her brown lashes.
Theodora held out her hand