Concerning Sally Part 5

CHAPTER IV

Professor Ladue again sat on the floor of his room before the skeleton of his lizard, absent-mindedly fingering a bone. Now and then he looked out of the window at the great tree; at that particular spot in the great tree upon which his daughter had been seated, one morning, not so very long before. He may have had a half-formed wish that he might again discover her there.

But I do not know what half-formed wishes he had, concerning the tree, his daughter, or anything else. At all events, Sally did not appear in the tree. Had not he expressed disapproval of that very performance?

He could trust her. Perhaps, with a dim consciousness of that fact, and, perhaps, with a certain disappointment that she was to be trusted so implicitly,--she bore, in that respect, not the most remote resemblance to her father,--the professor sighed. Then, still holding the bone which bothered him, he went to his desk. There was a bone missing--possibly more than one--and he would try to draw the missing bone.

He had scarcely got to work when there was a knock at his door. It was a firm knock, but not loud, expressing a quiet determination.

Professor Ladue seemed to know that knock. He seemed, almost, as if he had been waiting for it.

"Come!" he cried, with an alacrity which would not have been expected of him.

He pushed back his drawing-board and Sally came in.

"Ah, Miss Ladue!" he cried, with a certain spurious gayety which concealed--something. I don't know what it concealed, and neither did Sally, although she knew well enough that there was something behind it. She feared that it was anxiety behind it, and she feared the cause of that anxiety. "And what," continued the Professor, "can we do for Miss Ladue to-day? Will she have more about this lizard of mine?"

Sally's eyes lighted up and she smiled. "I should like that very much, father, thank you. But I can't, this morning, for I'm taking care of Charlie."

"And is Charlie concealed somewhere about you? Possibly you have him in your pocket?"

Sally giggled. "Charlie's tied to a tree."

"Tied to a tree! Does he submit gracefully?"

"He's an alligator; down by the wall, you know."

"Ah!" exclaimed the professor. "I am illumined. Do you think it is quite for the safety of the pa.s.sers-by to keep an alligator so close to the road?"

Sally giggled again. "Yes," she returned, "if I'm not gone too long. I came on an errand."

Professor Ladue lost somewhat of his gayety. "State your errand, Sally. I hope--"

But the professor neglected to state what he had hoped. Sally stated her errand with her customary directness.

"Mother wants me to go to dancing-school. Can I?"

"I suppose," returned Professor Ladue airily, "that you can go wherever your legs will carry you. I see no indications of your inability in that direction or in any other. Whether you _may_ go is another question."

Sally did not smile. "Well, then, may I? Have you any objection? Will you let me go?"

"That is a matter which deserves more consideration. Why do you wish to go?"

"Only because mother wants me to," Sally answered. "I like to please mother."

"Oh," said the professor. "Ah! And what, if I may ask, are your own inclinations in the matter?"

"Well," replied Sally slowly. "I--it doesn't seem to me that it would be very interesting to go there just because a lot of other children go. I could have a lot better time playing by myself. That is, I--of course, there's Henrietta, but Margaret Savage is stupid. But," she added hastily, "I do want to go because mother wants me to."

"Oh," the professor remarked, with a slight smile of amus.e.m.e.nt; "so Margaret Savage is stupid. But why didn't your mother ask me herself?"

"Perhaps she was afraid to," Sally said quietly. "I don't know what the reason was."

"But you think it was that she was afraid to." The smile on his face changed imperceptibly. The change made it a sneer. It is astonishing to see how much a slight change can accomplish. "Perhaps you know why she was afraid?"

"Yes," Sally acknowledged, "perhaps I do."

"Well, would you be good enough to give me the benefit of your ideas on that subject?"

Sally flushed a little, but she did not falter in the directness of her gaze any more than in her speech. "You generally make her cry when she asks you for anything."

The professor flushed in his turn. "Indeed!" said he. "A most observing child! A very observing child, indeed. And so your mother sent you in her place."

"She didn't," said Sally impa.s.sively, although with a rising color; "she doesn't know anything about my coming."

"Oh!" remarked the professor reflectively. "So you came on your own hook--off your own bat."

She nodded.

There was a long silence while Professor Ladue drummed on the table with his fingers. Sally waited.

At last he turned. "Sally," he said, with a slight return of that gayety he had shown on her entrance, "the high courage of Miss Sally Ladue shall receive the reward which it deserves. It is not fitting that it should not. Bearding the lion in his den is nothing to it. I am curious to know, Sally, whether you--" But there the professor stopped. He had been about to ask his daughter, aged ten, whether she was not afraid. He knew that she was not afraid. He knew that, if there was some fear, some hesitation, some doubt as to the exact outcome of the interview, it was not on Sally's part.

Sally was waiting for him to finish.

"Well, Sally," he continued, waving his hand airily, "make your arrangements. Miss Ladue is to go to dancing-school and dance her feet off if she wants to. Never mind the price." He waved his hand again.

"Never mind the price. What are a few paltry dollars that they should interfere with pleasure? What is money to dancing?"

Sally was very solemn. "I think the price is ten dollars," she said.

Professor Ladue snapped his fingers in the air. "It doesn't matter.

Poof! Ten dollars or ten hundred! Let us dance!"

Sally's eyes filled, but she choked the tears back.

"Thank you, father," she said gently. "Mother will be glad."

He rose and bowed, his hand on his heart. "That is important, of course."

"I think it is the only important thing about it," Sally returned promptly.

The professor bowed again, without reply, and Sally turned to go.

It may have been that the professor's heart smote him. It may have been that he had been aware of Sally's unshed tears. It may have been that he regretted that he should have been the cause--but I may be doing him an injustice. Very likely he was above such things as the tears of his wife and his daughter. It is quite possible that he was as proud of his ability to draw tears as of his ability to draw, correctly, a bone that he never saw. Whatever the reason, he spoke again as Sally was opening the door.

"Will Miss Ladue," he asked, with an elaborate politeness, "honor my poor study with her presence when she has more leisure? When she has not Charlie on her mind? We can, if she pleases, go farther into the matter of lizards or of coal trees."

"Thank you, father," Sally replied.