Suzanna Stirs the Fire Part 26

"Well, we really don't need a watch dog," his mother answered, and half smiled.

Maizie, advancing from the dining-room, stared at the intruder on his way out.

"Oh, but this dog has hair, mother," she cried. "You remember one of the others hadn't."

"Hair, or no hair," Mrs. Procter returned determinedly, "that dog is not going to stay in this house. I've had enough of stray animals to last me for quite awhile."

Peter stood holding the rope and still looking at his mother. But his hopeful expression, brought on by Maizie's words, was fast ebbing.

"Hurry up," said Mrs. Procter. "Take him away."

"Can't he stay for one night, mother?"

Suzanna, silent during the colloquy, now spoke.

"Maybe we can find another home for him, Peter. We were just going over to Graham Bartlett's, and perhaps he'd keep the dog. We'll ask his mother," she said.

Peter brightened a trifle at that. He really wanted more than anything in the world to keep that friendly dog. But if he was not to be allowed to do so, finding a good home for it was the next best thing.

So away the children started. It was a long walk, but the October day was cool and exhilarating. The children kicked the fallen leaves before them, and once Peter gave chase to his dog. Maizie sang little tunes, and Suzanna felt new wonderments rising within her at the beauty of the world.

They came at last to the Bartlett home, but no one was about, only several carriages stood in the road. Suzanna swung the big gate wide and with the children following her, and the dog held in Peter's firm grasp, she came to the house, mounted the steps and seeing the carved front door wide open, they all walked in. In the empty hall with the high ceilings they stood a moment embarra.s.sed.

From a side room came sounds of laughter and soft voices. Suzanna turned. Heavy Persian rugs hung at the entrance to this room and Suzanna hesitated one moment. She wished someone were about to direct her. But alas, at this critical moment the hallman had escaped kitchenward. It was Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett's at-home day, and the function in full blast, and as his services might not be required for perhaps half an hour he had flown, believing discovery could not fall upon him.

So Suzanna, Maizie, Peter and the dog stepped within the gorgeous room.

Soft music came enchantingly from a hidden orchestra, ladies beautifully gowned and bejeweled stood about in graceful postures. Mrs.

Graham Woods Bartlett attired in a flame-colored velvet gown with a wonderful satin-lined train hanging straight from her shoulders, stood near a table at which two very pretty girls were serving little cups of tea and dainty cakes.

Suzanna, Maizie, and Peter holding tight the frayed rope with the hungry-looking dog on one end, gazed awe stricken at the fairylike scene. At length Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett turned and beheld her late guests.

The children stood irresolute; some expression in Mrs. Bartlett's face halted their advance. That look made Suzanna strangely self-conscious.

Maizie was undeniably shy, and Peter with dread at his heart for fear Jerry (a quickly bestowed name that the dog had learned immediately to answer to) might not act in a gentlemanly fashion when he should pa.s.s the tea table. With all these different emotions in their hearts, the children finally started across the beautiful room. The ladies fell back from the dog lest in his pa.s.sage he might touch their gowns, and all gazed in wonder at the small cavalcade. When at last the children stood before Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett, Suzanna spoke, broke into the dead silence of the room, for even the orchestra had stopped its music.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "We thought you might like a dog," began Suzanna]

"We thought you might like a dog," began Suzanna. "He's a very nice dog and very loving, although if I'm to be honest, I can't say he's a good-looking dog." She felt her courage ebbing at the icy stillness which greeted her statement.

For a long time Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett remained speechless, and as the dog once had looked at Mrs. Procter, so he looked imploringly at her who might eventually be his new mistress. Little Maizie, moved to a show of bravery for Peter's sake, spoke up:

"We've only got a little house, and you've got a big one, so we thought you wouldn't mind."

"And," concluded Peter, "he really is a fine dog. You can buy a nice collar for him and maybe cut his tail--" Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett made a little wry face--"and you'd be surprised to see how elegant he'll look."

A laugh rang out from one end of the room. It came from a fine-looking old lady who stood near the window surrounded, it would seem by admiring satellites, and at the little musical sound Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett's face cleared magically, for the stately old lady was a very important personage to all present, envied usually too, and if this little incident seemed to amuse her then the matter was beautifully altered. So Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett found her voice. "Go out into the grounds and see the gardener. If he can find a place for the animal, let him keep it."

The children felt themselves dismissed. On the way out Suzanna kept her gaze quite away from the table with its alluring load of dainties. But Maizie paused an infinitesimal fraction of a second and let her eyes stray over the fascinating cakes, the gla.s.ses of pink ices, and the Maraschino cherries and nuts and white candies. But it was Peter who neither looked aside nor paused, but as he went by the table he addressed the ceiling.

"My dog's very fond of cakes," he said. "But mother says dogs can do without cakes, especially stray dogs."

One of the pretty girls laughed merrily, and sweeping from a silver plate a handful of cakes she thrust them into Peter's hands. "Thank you," he said simply. And then the children left with the dog gamboling in expectancy behind his small master. He knew well the cakes were for him.

Out in the grounds they met Graham. He had been to the stables to look at his pony, a new gift from his father. He paused astonished at sight of the children.

"Oh, Graham," Suzanna cried at sight of him, "your mother said we should see the gardener about this dog. She thought he'd like to have him."

Graham, though startled, asked no questions.

"I guess it's David mother means," he said. "Wait here and I'll see if he's in the back garden."

After Graham had gone Peter began to conjecture. "If David won't take Jerry," he said, "what'll we do?"

"You'll have to take him out and lose him then," said Maizie calmly.

Peter turned a considering eye upon her. He couldn't understand her.

Quite as a matter of course she suggested his taking the dog out on some prairie and turning it loose, to know hunger, and perhaps abuse. And yet, he had seen this same tender-hearted little Maizie crying because a spider had been swept down from the porch. No, in his boyish soul he decided that should he live a thousand years, he never would understand women with their inconsistencies and their peculiar viewpoints. Their tendernesses in one direction and their complacent cruelties in others.

"Let's go and sit on the steps of that cottage," said Suzanna, pointing to a small house at the foot of the side garden. Maizie consented, but Peter preferred not to move. He wished to stay with his dog as long as possible. In the cottage might be a lady who would look with the same horror-stricken eyes upon his friend as had Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett.

So Suzanna and Maizie left him with his dog. They had just ensconced themselves comfortably on the steps of the cottage when a distressing accent struck upon their ears, and simultaneously they turned in the direction of the sound. There on a tiny verandah, almost hidden behind a large fern growth, a little girl sat on a low chair crying softly and pathetically as though her small heart were broken. The children stood for a moment not knowing just what to do. Then Maizie, the same one, thought Peter satirically (he could see all that went on from his place beyond) who had suggested his losing his dog on a prairie, went to the pathetic figure and sitting beside it said in a tremulous low voice, full of sympathy and pity:

"What's the matter, little girl?"

The one thus addressed took her hands down from her face and looked around at her questioner. Her eyes were dark, with black lashes, and she had wonderful, curly hair. When she had finished looking at Maizie, which was a long moment, she put her hand behind her and produced a doll, sadly deficient as to features. Indeed, noseless, entirely, and with one eye gone. But in a very fever of love, she held it to her.

"Are you crying because your doll is broken?" asked Suzanna, now coming a little closer and standing straight and slim before the child.

"No, she's not broken," said the little girl, "but she's got the whooping cough and she keeps my father awake nights coughing."

Suzanna instantly responded. "Oh, that's too bad," she said. "Can't your mother fix her some flaxseed tea?"

Now down once more went the little girl's head upon her knee, and once more she was shaking with sobs. And at this moment young Graham returned and in his wake, David.

"David says," began Graham cheerfully to Suzanna and Maizie, "that he can find room for an extra dog, so you may leave yours. Where's your brother?"

"He is right over there," pointed Maizie.

Then the gardener's glance fell upon the little girl, with her head bent as she still wept.

"She's crying awfully hard," said Suzanna to the gardener. "Do you know whose little girl she is?"

"She's mine," said the man with a big world of tenderness in his voice.

"She's my little Daphne."

"We thought she was crying because her doll was broken," said Suzanna.

"Then she said it had the whooping cough and kept you awake all night and I asked her why her mother didn't make some flaxseed tea for it."