Part 14 (1/2)

”In other words,” he answered, strangely catching her meaning at once, ”one chair is like another to you.”

”Well, is there any difference?” she queried. She was very much interested in this question, for the subtleties of refined comfort held no place in her life. Knowledge of luxuries was quite outside the ken of the younger members of the Procter family.

The big man said: ”Yes, there is a difference; a decided difference.” He was thinking of his household with its retinue of trained servants, each helping to make the days revolve smoothly.

”Why aren't you at work?” asked Suzanna then. ”My father works every day in the hardware store and sometimes way into the night on his invention in the attic. _He_ doesn't have a chair filled with pillows to lean against. Does G.o.d like you better than He does us?”

”Eh, what's that? What do you mean?”

”Because you don't have to work! And you think one chair is better than another to sit in, and you can shout at the little man and make him afraid.”

”Well, we'll not talk of that,” said the big man testily. ”And now I'll ask you a few questions. What does your mother do when rent week comes round? Cry, and throw up to your father the fact that she can't make ends meet? That's what women generally do, I've heard and read.”

”Oh, no, my mother doesn't do that,” said Suzanna, shaking her head.

”She just looks sad at first and sits and thinks and thinks and then after awhile she says: 'Well, if everybody was thoughtful we'd all have enough. But when some people waste, then others must pay the piper'--'pay the piper'--I like the singing way that sounds, don't you?”

”And who does she mean by other people?”

Suzanna smiled confidently: ”Oh, she just says that; so no one really is blamed, I guess. There really isn't anyone of that kind living; 'cause n.o.body in the world could waste if they knew some children needed shoes and some little boys' elbows stuck through their coats; would anyone?”

The man looked at her suspiciously. ”Have you been listening to Reynolds haranging on his soap box?” But seeing her innocence, he went on: ”Well, we don't know about those things. There's some reason why.” He went on more vigorously: ”Of course, some people are privileged because they're stronger; they've better judgment.”

But Suzanna didn't understand that. She put the matter aside to think over later, and, if she could remember the words, to repeat them to her father for his explanation at a time when he wasn't hazy and far away from realities.

”What does your father do?” Suzanna's companion resumed after a moment.

”He weighs nails in Job Doane's hardware store,” said Suzanna, ”and he sells washboards to ladies. My father's a great man. He's an inventor!

He has a wonderful machine in the attic and sometimes when he's thinking of his invention, he doesn't see us at all, and mother tells us not to talk then to disturb him.”

”What's your father's name?”

”Richard Procter,” said Suzanna. And then:

”You are like an eagle; that's why I like you. You'd fight, wouldn't you, if you had to! But I shouldn't mind your shouting. And I'd rather you'd see my toes sticking through my shoe than any person in the world outside my family. Now, get me a needle and thread before they all come back,” she finished.

The man stared into her upraised flower-face. His own turned red for the visible second of hesitation. Then he raised his voice and called. The timid one appeared. His master said: ”Get me some black thread and a needle; also a thimble. Don't stand there gaping! I'm waiting.”

With some difficulty, the amazed valet gained volition over his power of locomotion. He returned shortly bearing the desired articles reposing on a silver tray, and retired once more, his eyes still dazed.

”Now hurry up,” said the big man to Suzanna, ”if you want to get into the garden at all.”

Suzanna threaded the needle, then removed her slipper. ”I'll overcast the ribbon, like mother does seams,” she said. ”Will you hold the slipper? There, that's easier. You see I need both hands.”

Silence, till the work was finished. ”Now,” said Suzanna, stopping to bite the thread, no scissors being at hand, ”I guess no toe in the world could push through that, I've st.i.tched so tight. You think it will hold, don't you?”

[Ill.u.s.tration: Very carefully he looked at the mended place]

Very carefully he looked at the mended place. ”I should say, if my judgment's worth anything, that it's a very decent job. But see here, you've taken up such a large seam; the shoe will be too small again.”