Concerning Sally Part 6

Professor Ladue was conscious of a regret that she spoke without enthusiasm. But it was too much to expect--so soon.

"I shall be pleased," he said.

An idea, which seemed just to have occurred to Sally, made her face brighten. The professor noted it.

"And can--may I bring Henrietta?"

"Bring Henrietta!" cried the professor. "That is food for thought. Who is this Henrietta? It seems to me that you mentioned her once before."

"Yes," said Sally eagerly. "I did. She is Henrietta Sanderson and Fox Sanderson is her brother. He came to see you the other day. You weren't at home."

"Fox Sanderson!"

"Yes," said Sally, again; "and when I told him that you weren't at home, he came over the wall. He brought Henrietta. He knows a lot about sauruses."

"He knows a lot about sauruses, does he?" the professor repeated thoughtfully. "It seems to me that I have some recollection of Fox Sanderson."

He turned and rummaged in a drawer of his desk. He seemed unable to find what he was looking for, and he extracted from the depths of the drawer many empty cigarette boxes, which he cast into the grate, and a handful of papers, which he dumped on the top of the desk, impatiently. He sorted these over, in the same impatient manner, and finally he found it. It was a letter and was near the bottom of the pile. He opened it and read it.

"H-mph!" he said, reading, "Thanks me for my kind permission, does he?

Now, Miss Ladue, can you give me any light upon that? What permission does he refer to? Permission to do what?"

Sally shook her head. But her father was not looking.

"Oh," he said; "h-m. I must have said that I'd see him." He read on.

"I must even have said that he could study with me; that I'd help him.

Very thoughtless of me, very thoughtless, indeed! It must have been after--well. And he will be here in the course of three weeks." The professor turned the leaf. "This was written a month ago. So he's here, is he, Sally?"

"Yes," Sally answered, "he's here."

The professor stood, for a few moments, looking at Sally, the slight smile on his lips expressive of mingled disgust and amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Well," he observed, at last, "it appears to be one on me. I must have said it. I have a vague recollection of something of the kind, but the recollection is very vague. Do you like him, Sally?"

"Oh, yes." Sally seemed to feel that that was too sweeping. "That is,"

she added, "I--I like him."

Professor Ladue laughed lightly. Sally laughed, too, but in an embarra.s.sed fas.h.i.+on.

"That is satisfactory. You couldn't qualify it, Sally, could you?

Tried hard, didn't you?"

Sally flushed.

"Well," continued the professor, "if you chance to see this Fox Sanderson, or any relative of his, will you convey to him my deep sense of pleasure at his presence? I shall be obliged to Miss Ladue if she will do that."

"I will," said Sally gravely.

Professor Ladue bowed. So far as he was concerned, the interview was closed. So far as Sally was concerned, it was not.

"Well?" asked Sally. "May I bring Henrietta? You haven't answered that question, father."

"Dear me! What an incomprehensible omission! I must be getting old and forgetful. Old and forgetful, Sally. It is a state that we all attain if we do not die first."

"Yes," said Sally, "I suppose so. May I bring Henrietta, father?"

Professor Ladue laughed shortly. "What a persistent child you are, Sally!"

"I have to be," she replied, trying not to show her disappointment. "I suppose you mean that you don't want me to bring Henrietta. Well, I won't. Perhaps I may come in some day and hear about the lizard."

He did what he had not expected to do. "Oh, bring her, by all means,"

he cried, with an a.s.sumed cheerfulness which would not have deceived you or me. It did not deceive Sally. "Bring her." He waved his hand inclusively. "Bring Henrietta and Margaret Savage and any others you can think of. Bring them all. I shall be pleased--honored." And again he bowed.

Sally was just opening the door. "Margaret Savage would not be interested," she said in a low voice, without turning her head, "and there aren't--"

"Sally," the professor interrupted in cold exasperation, "will you be good enough to project in my direction, what voice you think it best to use, when you speak to me? Will you be so kind? I do not believe that I am growing deaf, but I don't hear you."

Sally turned toward him. "Yes, father, I beg your pardon. I said that Margaret Savage wouldn't be interested," she repeated quietly and clearly, "and that there aren't any others."

He made an inarticulate noise in his throat. Sally was on the point of shutting the door.

"Sally!" he called.

The door opened again just far enough to show proper respect. "Yes, father?"

"Would your friend Henrietta really be interested in--in what she would probably hear?"

The door opened wider. "Oh, yes, she would. I'm sure she would." There was a note of eagerness in Sally's voice.

"Well, then, you may bring her. I shall be glad to have you both when you find leisure. But no Margaret Savages, Sally."

"Oh, no, father. Thank you very much."

After which Sally shut the door and the professor heard her running downstairs. He seemed pleased to hear the noise, which really was not great, and seated himself at his desk again and took up his drawing.

And Sally, when she had got downstairs and out of doors, found her exhilaration oozing away rapidly and a depression of spirit taking its place. The interview, on the whole, had been well calculated--it may have been carefully calculated--to take the starch out of a woman grown. Professor Ladue had had much experience at taking the starch out of others. And Sally was not a woman grown, but a child of ten.

Her powers of resistance had been equal to the task imposed, fortunately, but she found that the exercise of those powers had left her weak and shaky, and she was sobbing as she ran. If the professor had seen her then,--if he had known just what her feelings were as she sobbed,--would he have been proud of his ability to draw tears? I wonder.

"Anyway," Sally sobbed, "I know how he makes mother feel. I know. Oh, mother, mother! But I'll never give in. I won't!"

She stopped her convulsive sobbing by the simple process of shutting her teeth over her lower lip, and she dashed away the tears from her eyes as she ran toward the captive alligator, whose continuous roar was growing in her ears. The roar was one of rage.

"Oh, dear! I left him too long."

And Sally ran up to find Charlie fumbling at the knot of the rope by which he was tied. He cried out at her instantly.

"Sally! Don't _want_ to be tied any more. _Aren't_ an alligator. I'm a little boy. Don't want to be tied like an old cow."