Part 10 (1/2)

”I only wanted to ask if I might pack a lunch in my little basket for us,” said Susan. ”It isn't a secret. I just as lief have Miss Liza hear.”

Susan reappeared in a moment, basket in hand, carrying s...o...b..ll and Flip.

”Let me see what you took, Susan,” said Grandmother.

In the basket were two mola.s.ses peppermints and two lumps of sugar.

”Just enough for Gentilla and me,” said Susan contentedly. ”Phil has gone to Green Valley with his mother.”

Down the lane they started, Gentilla carrying s...o...b..ll, Susan with Flip and the basket of lunch.

”There is no use looking in there to-day,” announced Susan, waving her hand toward the office. ”Grandfather has gone fis.h.i.+ng, and Snuff has gone with him. This is good weather for fis.h.i.+ng. Grandfather said so, and he knows everything.”

”Everything,” echoed Gentilla loyally.

”Yes, he does,” Susan chattered on. ”When I was little, I used to wonder why he wasn't a king. There are always plenty of kings in fairy stories, but there don't seem to be any round here. Did you ever see a king?”

Gentilla shook her head solemnly, but Susan was not looking at her.

”Gentilla,” said Susan, staring at the schoolhouse door, ”it's open!”

Never before had Susan seen the schoolhouse door unlocked. Many times had she shaken it and rattled the k.n.o.b, and all of no avail. But now the door actually stood ajar, and, with a push that sent it wide open, Susan, followed by Gentilla, stepped over the threshold.

The air in the schoolroom was close and warm, and dust lay thick upon the floor and danced in the beams of sunlight that filtered through the grimy window-panes.

Susan walked about, surveying the battered desks covered with scratches and ink-spots and ornamented with initials cut into the wood. The door of the rusty stove stood open, and within lay a heap of torn papers. The faded maps were not interesting, and Susan began to think the schoolroom more attractive when peeped at from the porch than when actually within it.

”Let's go outside,” said she to Gentilla, who had followed her about like Mary's lamb. ”Then we'll sit down and eat our lunch.” The lunch basket, guarded by Flip and s...o...b..ll, had been left on the porch steps.

Susan turned the k.n.o.b of the schoolhouse door, which had swung shut behind them, and pulled. The door wouldn't open. Susan tugged until she grew red in the face.

”You try, Gentilla,” said she.

Gentilla obligingly gave a pull, and toppled over backward upon the floor.

”Don't cry,” said Susan, helping her to her feet. ”We will just climb out of the window.”

But the windows, swollen and stiff, were no more accommodating than the door.

Susan climbed up on the window-sill, and, covered with dust and dirt, pushed and pulled until she was quite out of breath.

”I can't,” she gasped. ”I can't open it. What shall we do?”

Gentilla's face puckered up at sight of Susan's distress. She ran back to the door and beat upon it with her soft little fists.

”You open, you open,” called Gentilla, in a pitiful little pipe that would have moved a heart of stone.

Susan wanted to cry. There was a big lump in her throat, and it was only vigorous winking and blinking that kept the tears from falling down her cheeks.

But Susan was repeating to herself something she had overheard Grandmother say to Miss Liza that very afternoon.