Suzanna Stirs the Fire Part 14

"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."

Suzanna smiled at him. "Oh, that doesn't matter, just so the toes can't burst through again," she answered. "You don't mind hobbling a little bit when you have to."

He cleared his throat. "Well, I'll call the housekeeper and she'll take you to the other children."

"Good-bye," said Suzanna friendlily. And then very politely, "Thank you for helping me."

"Well, I suppose I might say you're welcome."

But he watched the small figure, that did after all "hobble" a little all the way down the room as the summoned housekeeper led the way.

And, left alone, he sat quite still for a few moments. Once or twice he smiled grimly, but several times he frowned.

Suzanna was full of her experience with the Eagle Man, and in spite of her mishap she had greatly enjoyed her day. Hadn't the fierce one, the one of the loud voice and cross face, been kind to her and helped her to mend her slipper? And hadn't he told the housekeeper to give her a great bunch of the purple grapes especially procured from the city for him, she was told?

She thought of all this when she and Maizie left the low phaeton in which they had been driven home. For some indefinable reason she was elated, and excited--an emotion far above the usual happy fatigue felt after a day of pleasure. She meant to tell her father and mother all about her talk with the Eagle Man when the supper dishes were washed and put away. She would show her father just how her toes had thrust themselves through her slipper and how she had sat upon her foot till it went to sleep. Not, however, till the setting was right would she tell her story. Suzanna's unconscious dramatic sense rarely failed her.

At the supper table that night the baby fell asleep in his high chair.

Peter, after a hard day of play, was nodding in his place. Maizie, replete after her third dish of rice pudding, was quiet; a little sleepy too, if truth must be told.

It was then Suzanna told of her visit with the Eagle Man. She left out no detail, from the time her stocking burst its confines to her interesting intimacy with the Eagle Man.

"You told old John Ma.s.sey, you say, Suzanna," said her father at length, his eyes bright, "about my machine?"

Suzanna nodded. Then a little fear stole upon her. She slipped from her place and went to her father.

"Did I talk too much, daddy?" she asked, mindful of former such indictments.

His arm went about her waist. Then he drew her close and kissed her.

"No, Suzanna, little girl," he said; "I guess talk from the heart rarely hurts." He paused. "Perhaps it was meant you should talk to him."

CHAPTER IX

A LEAF MISSING FROM THE BIBLE

Suzanna thought a great deal about the Eagle Man. She was extremely puzzled as to the exact place he filled in the world. While she admired him, indeed was strongly drawn to him, still she considered him in some ways quite inferior to her father. And so she wondered why he could live in a big house, could have servants who sprang at a word to do his bidding, and could eat all the fruit he wanted as evidenced by the great bunch of purple grapes, one of many bunches, while her father lived in a very small house, had no servants, and had little fruit to eat. She knew instinctively that the Eagle Man had no need to worry about rent day, and the many other similar things she felt hara.s.sed her father, and over and over again she pondered on this seemingly unjust state of affairs.

It would have been so much better, she thought, if the Eagle Man occupied with his one daughter just a little cottage while the large Procter family had the bigger house. Though she dearly loved the little home, there had been times when it seemed very small for the growing Procter family.

But she concluded at last that for the present there were many perplexities which must remain perplexities till that wonderful time when she would be a woman, and everything made clear to her.

Experiences, too, had shown her that a troublesome question of Monday often had resolved itself by Wednesday. So she went contentedly on her way.

On a morning following Suzanna's talk with the Eagle Man, Mrs. Procter and all the children except the baby who was taking his early morning nap upstairs, were in the kitchen busy at their tasks, Suzanna polis.h.i.+ng the stove, and Maizie peeling the potatoes for supper, a task Mrs.

Procter insisted upon being performed early in the day. Peter, exempted, because of his s.e.x, from household duties--and very unfair this exemption Suzanna thought privately--was trying his awkward best to mend a baseball. Maizie broke a rather long silence.