Chapter 22—Something to do

Whateverdangertheremighthavebeenfromtheeffectsofthatsuddenchill,itwassoonover,though,ofcourse,AuntMyrarefusedtobelieveit,andDr.Aleccherishedhisgirlwithredoubledvigilanceandtendernessformonthsafterward.Rosequiteenjoyedbeingsick,becauseassoonasthepainendedthefunbegan,andforaweekortwosheledthelifeofalittleprincesssecludedintheBower,whileeveryoneserved,amused,andwatchedoverherinthemostdelightfulmanner.Butthedoctorwascalledawaytoseeanoldfriend,whowasdangerouslyill,andthenRosefeltlikeayoungbirddeprivedofitsmother'sshelteringwingespeciallyononeafternoonwhentheauntsweretakingtheirnaps,andthehousewasverystillwithinwhilesnowfellsoftlywithout. “I'llgoandhuntupPhebe,sheisalwaysniceandbusy,andlikestohavemehelpher.IfDollyisoutofthewaywecanmakecaramelsandsurprisetheboyswhentheycome,”Rosesaidtoherself,asshethrewdownherbookandfeltreadyforsocietyofsomesort. Shetooktheprecautiontopeepthroughtheslidebeforesheenteredthekitchen,forDollyallowednomessingwhenshewasround.Butthecoastwasclear,andnoonebutPhebeappeared,sittingatthetablewithherheadonherarmsapparentlyasleep.Rosewasjustabouttowakeherwitha“Boo!”whensheliftedherhead,driedherweteyeswithherblueapron,andfelltoworkwitharesolutefaceonsomethingshewasevidentlymuchinterestedin.Rosecouldnotmakeoutwhatitwas,andhercuriositywasgreatlyexcited,forPhebewaswritingwithasputteringpenonsomebitsofbrownpaper,apparentlycopyingsomethingfromalittlebook. “Imustknowwhatthedearthingisabout,andwhyshecried,andthensetherlipstightandwenttoworkwithallhermight,”thoughtRose,forgettingallaboutthecaramels,and,goingroundtothedoor,sheenteredthekitchen,sayingpleasantly, “Phebe,Iwantsomethingtodo.Can'tyouletmehelpyouaboutanything,orshallIbeintheway?” “Oh,dearno,missIalwayslovetohaveyouroundwhenthingsaretidy.Whatwouldyouliketodo?”answeredPhebe,openingadrawerasifabouttosweepherownaffairsoutofsightbutRosestoppedher,exclaiming,likeacuriouschild, “Letmesee!Whatisit?Iwon'ttellifyou'drathernothaveDollyknow.” “I'monlytryingtostudyabitbutI'msostupidIdon'tgetonmuch,”answeredthegirlreluctantly,permittingherlittlemistresstoexaminethepoorcontrivancesshewastryingtoworkwith. Abrokenslatethathadblownofftheroof,aninchortwoofpencil,anoldalmanacforareader,severalbitsofbrownoryellowpaperironedsmoothlyandsewntogetherforacopy-book,andthecopiessundryreceiptswritteninAuntPlenty'sneathand.These,withasmallbottleofinkandarustypen,madeupPhebe'soutfit,anditwaslittlewonderthatshedidnot“geton”inspiteofthepatientpersistencethatdriedthedespondingtearsanddrovealongthesputteringpenwithawill. “Youmaylaughifyouwantto,MissRose,Iknowmythingsarequeer,andthat'swhyIhide'embutIdon'tmindsinceyou'vefoundmeout,andIain'tabitashamedexceptofbeingsobackwardatmyage,”saidPhebehumbly,thoughhercheeksgrewredderasshewashedoutsomecrookedcapitalswithatearortwonotyetdriedupontheslate. “Laughatyou!IfeelmorelikecryingtothinkwhataselfishgirlIam,tohaveloads