Part 13 (1/2)

Other games were suggested and played by the children, but Suzanna still sat in the big armchair, one long thin leg dangling, the other bent under her. She grew fertile in excuses when asked to join the others. She like to ”watch,” then she felt a little tired, until Miss Ma.s.sey at last sensing that something was wrong did no more urging.

Once little Maizie sought her sister. Why wouldn't Suzanna play? Was she mad at something?

Suzanna gulped hard, then with manifest effort she whispered: ”You know where mother put the ribbon bag so my slippers would be long enough?

Well, my toe's stuck through the ribbon, and I mustn't move.”

”Oh!” Maizie was sorry. ”Can't you tell Miss Ma.s.sey and let her fix it?”

Suzanna shrank back. ”No, no,” she cried. ”You mustn't say anything, do you hear, Maizie? Promise me.”

Maizie solemnly promised. ”Will the other one hold?” she asked then.

Thus the little Job's Comforter gave Suzanna food for unpleasant questionings. Would, indeed, the other slipper hold?

Then said Miss Ma.s.sey: ”We are going into the garden, Suzanna. Would you rather stay here till we return?” Her question was very gentle, her understanding would have been very sure had Suzanna told her trouble.

But Suzanna only answered eagerly:

”Yes, I'd like to stay here.” She was almost happy in the moment's relief.

”If you wish to come later you can find us. Just ring this bell and Mrs.

Russell, the housekeeper, will take you to the South Garden,” said Miss Ma.s.sey. She leaned down and touched Suzanna's face with her soft lips.

And then Suzanna was left alone.

Now what to do! Suzanna set her fertile little mind to work on the problem. She settled into the chair and lowered the foot on which she was sitting. She was intently regarding the torn slipper, when she heard distinctly an unpleasant sound. A sound which gathered volume, till Suzanna realized that something or someone was approaching the library.

She resumed her former position, and waited!

The brocade curtains were drawn aside; a little man in a sort of uniform stood with head bowed, while a large man limped into the room.

”Fix my chair, you simpering idiot,” he shouted at the little man, ”and then take yourself off!”

The small man glided to a great easy chair near the fireplace. He heaped pillows in it, stood aside while the loud-voiced one lowered himself, groaningly, into the downy nest. Then the valet disappeared. Suzanna involuntarily glanced at his feet. Did he move on velvet casters?

A moment, then the big man gave a twist of pain. A rheumatic dart had seized him, had Suzanna known, but she could not know, and a little exclamation was drawn from her. At the sound, the other occupant of the room started and glanced around till finally his eyes came to rest upon the small girl in a large chair thrust well away in a shadowy corner of the room.

”Well!” at length he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. And then: ”Are you one of the Sunday School cla.s.s?”

”Yes, I'm Suzanna Procter. The other little girls have gone out into the garden.”

He grunted and continued to glare fiercely at her. But Suzanna knew no fear. She felt strangely a sudden high sense of exhilaration, just as once when she had been caught in a brilliant electric storm. Some element in her rose and responded to the big flashes; just as she had responded to Drusilla's play of imagination. Now a force was roused in her that claimed kins.h.i.+p with the big, thunderous man opposite. She sat up very straight, and stared right back at him. Then she said very calmly:

”You look like an eagle!”

”Then you're afraid of me!” He flung the words at her with a certain triumph.

”I'm not! I don't like the way you shout, but _I'm_ not afraid of you.”

He sank back among his pillows, but did not take his eyes from her face.

At last he asked: ”What are you sitting bent up that way for? Are you hiding anything?”