Apron-Strings Part 5

Mrs. Milo was a judge of moods. She knew she had gone far enough. She a.s.sumed a tone of deepest regret. "Ungrateful children!" she said, distributing her censure. "Think of the little orphans who don't get the care you get! Think----" And arraigning the sagging Clarence, "Don't lean against Miss Milo."

Ikey grinned. Experience had taught him that when Mrs. Milo permitted herself to halt a scolding, she would not resume it. Furthermore, a loud, burring bell was ringing from somewhere beyond the Church, and that summons meant the choirmaster, a personage who was really formidable.

Before Sue, he raised that candle-like finger.

"Practice," announced Mrs. Milo, pointing to the pa.s.sage.

Three boys drew churchward on sluggish feet. But Sue held Ikey back.

"His finger hurts," she comforted. "Come! We'll get some liniment."

"Susan!"--gently reproving again. "There's liniment in the Dispensary."

Up, as before a teacher, came Ikey's well hand. "Please, Missis, de Orphan medicine, she is not a speck of good."

Sue added her plea. "No, mother, she is not a speck."

Mrs. Milo shook her head sadly. "You're not going to help these children by coddling them," she reminded. And to Ikey, "Let Nature repair the bruise." She waved all four to go.

"Out of here, you little rascals!" Sue covered her chagrin by a laugh.

"Oh, you go that way,"--this to Ikey, who was treading too close upon the heels of the still mourning Clarence. She guided the wounded chorister toward the Close.

Ikey took his banishment with a sulky look at Mrs. Milo. "Nature," she had recommended to him. He did not know any such person, and resented being turned over to a stranger.

Mrs. Milo saw the look. "Wait!" And as he halted, "Is that your handkerchief, Sue?"

"Why--why--er--I think so."

"Kindly take it."

Gently as this was said, it was for Ikey the last straw. As Sue unwound the square of linen, he emitted a heart-rending "Ow!" and fell to weeping stormily. "Oh, boo-hoo! Oh! Oh! Oh, dis is wat I gets for singin' in a Christian choir!" With which stinging rebuke, he fled the drawing-room.

"Now, Susan." Mrs. Milo folded her hands and regarded her daughter sorrowfully.

"Yes, mother?"

"Haven't I asked you not to allow those boys to call you Momsey?"

"Yes, mother, but----"

The white-clad figure in the bay-window stirred, rose, and came forward, and Hattie ranged herself at Sue's side, the whole movement plainly one of defense.

Her bridal raiment afforded Sue an excuse for changing the subject. "Oh, mother, look! How lovely!"

"Don't evade my question," chided the elder woman.

Sue reached for her mother's hand. "Ah, poor little hungry hearts," she pleaded. "Those boys just long to call somebody mother."

Mrs. Milo drew her hand free. "Then let them call me mother," she returned.

"Hup!" laughed Hattie, hastily averting her face.

Sue turned to her, mild wonder in her eyes. "Oh, mother's the best mother in the world," she declared; "--and the sweetest.--And you love the boys, don't you, dear?"

Mrs. Milo was watching Hattie's lowered head through narrowed eyes. "I love them--naturally," she answered, with a note of injury.

"Of course, you do! You're a true mother. And a true mother loves anybody's baby. But--the trouble is"--this with a tender smile--"you--you don't always show them the love in your heart."

"Well," retorted her mother, "I shan't let them make you ridiculous.--Momsey!"

From the Church came the sound of boyish laughter, mingled with s.n.a.t.c.hes of a hymn. The hymn was Ikey's favorite, and above all the other voices sounded his--

"_O Mutter Dear, Jaru-u-u-usalem----_"

Sue turned her head to listen. "They know they've got a right to at least one parent," she said, almost as if to herself. "Preferably a mother."

"But you're an unmarried woman!"

"Still what difference does that make in----"

"Please don't argue."

"No, mother,"--dutifully.

"To refer to yourself in such a way is most indelicate. Especially before Hattie."

There was no dissembling in the look Hattie Balcome gave the older woman.

The young eyes were full of comprehension, and mockery; they said as plainly as words, "Here is one who knows you for what you are--in spite of your dainty manners, your gentle voice, your sweet words." Nor could the girl keep out of her tone something of the dislike and distrust she felt. "Well, Mrs. Milo!" she exclaimed. "I think it's a terrible pity that Sue's not a mother."

"Oh, indeed!"--with quick anger, scarcely restrained. "Well, the subject is not appropriate to unmarried persons, especially young girls. Let us drop it."

"Mother!"--And having diverted Mrs. Milo's resentful stare to herself, Sue now deliberately swung the possibility of censure her way in order to protect Hattie. "Mother, shouldn't a woman who hasn't children fill her arms with the children who haven't mothers? Why shouldn't I mother our orphan boys and girls?"

"I repeat: The subject is closed. And when the wedding is over, I don't want the boys in here again."

Sue blinked guiltily. "But--er--hasn't Mr. Farvel told you?"

"Told me what?"

"Of--of his plan."

"Plan?"

"Oh, it's a splendid idea!"

"Really,"--with fine sarcasm.

"Every day, five orphans in to dinner."