Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

“ Puppa thought I was too delicate to study much."
Sue looked blank for a moment. Not to know "Midsummer-Night's Dream"—that did seem very strange!
But Clarice opened her eyes at her and smiled and sighed. "My eyes have never been strong!" she murmured plaintively.
Sue's arms were round her in an instant. "You poor darling!" she cried. "Isn't that hard, Mary? isn't it cruel? To think of not having strong eyes! Clarice, I will come and read to you every day; I should just love to do it. We'll begin to-morrow morning. Oh, how splendid that will be! What shall we read first? ”

“ And Lily would smile and dimple, and look almost a little like Sue—almost!
The boys, too, were a great comfort in those days. Never had Tom been so considerate, so thoughtful. Hardly a day passed but he would want Mary to play or walk or fish with him. She had never, it seemed, seen so much of Tom before, though he had always been the dearest boy in the world—except Teddy.
"Oh!" she cried one day, when Tom, after an hour's patient search, found the silver thimble that she had carelessly dropped in the orchard—"oh, it is good to have a brother Tom. I don't see what girls do who have none." ”

“ A slender girl, with very light hair and eyebrows, a pale skin, and a thin, set mouth—not pretty, Mary thought, but with an "air," as Sue would say, and very showily dressed. The blouse of bright changeable silk, with numberless lace ruffles, the vast hat, like a flower-garden and bird-shop in one, the gold chain and lace parasol, shone strangely in the peaceful village street. ”

“ All the while she was talking she was quietly stripping Clarice of her trinkets. Clarice was too frightened to speak or move; she could only moan and whimper. But after the first moment of stupefaction, Sue came forward with flashing eyes and crimson cheeks. "How dare you?" she cried. "How dare you steal her things? Her father or Mr. Hart—Mr. George Hart of Hilton—will send you the money to-morrow, everything we owe. You shall not steal our things, you wicked woman!" ”

“ Packard and Clarice! It must be. They are strangers, I tell you! I never saw either of them in my life. And look at her hat! Mary, will you look at her hat?"
"I am looking at it!" said Mary. "Yes, Sue; I shouldn't wonder if you were right. Where are you going?"
"Indoors, so that I can stare. You wouldn't be so rude, Mary, as to stare at her where she can see you? You aren't going to stare at all! Oh, Mary, what's the use of not being human? You are too poky for anything. A stranger,—and that girl, of all the world,—and not have a good look at her? Mary, I do find you trying sometimes. ”

“ A kiss to Mary, a word to the boys, and all will be forgotten. Go back now, before it is too late!"
But two other voices spoke louder in Sue's ear, drowning the voice of her heart. One was pride. "Go back?" it said. "Confess that you have been wicked and silly? Let the boys and Lily see you humbling yourself—you, who have always been the proud one? Never!" The other was loyalty, or rather a kind of chivalry that was a part of Sue. "You cannot desert Clarice," said this voice. "She is a stranger here, and she depends upon you. ”

“ Sue Penrose, there is some one following us!"
Sue listened. Yes, there were footsteps, some way behind. "But, my dear," she said, "this is the highroad! Why should they be following us? People have a right to walk on the road—as good a right as we have."
They stopped a moment, instinctively, and listened; and the footsteps behind them stopped too. They went on, and the steps were heard again, light yet distinct, keeping the distance between them, neither more nor less.
Clarice grasped Sue's arm. "They are tramps or robbers, Sue! We are going to be murdered. ”

“ Sue, you haven't shelled a dozen peas; I shall have to go and get Bridget to help me."
"Oh, no; I will, I truly will!" cried Sue; and she shelled with ardor for a few minutes, the pods flying open and the peas rattling merrily into the tin basin.
"Do you remember the three peas in the Andersen story?" she said presently. "I always used to wish I had been one of those—the one that grew up, you know, and made a little garden for the sick girl. Wouldn't it be lovely, Mary, to come up out of the ground, and find you could grow, and put out leaves, and then have flowers? ”

“ But Mary isn't really fat, Clarice. She's only—well, rather square, you know, and chunky. That is the way she is made; she has always been like that."
"I call her fat!" said Clarice, decisively. "Of course, it's partly the way she dresses, with no waist at all, and the same size all the way down. You would be just as bad, Sue, if you weren't so slim. I don't see what possesses you to dress the way you do, making regular guys of yourselves. ”

“ Sue stumbled and fell over one of them, knocking his cap off, and his basket out of his hand.
"Now, then, Quicksilver," said Tom, "where are you a-coming to? Thermometer smashed, and mercury running all over the lot, eh?"
"Oh, I beg your pardon, Tom—I do indeed! But I saved you the trouble of taking off your hat, anyhow. Come along and play 'I spy' in the orchard."
"Hurrah!" cried the boys. "Where's Mammy? Oh, Mammy, pickereels! five fine fat festive pickereels! Fried for supper, please, Mammy! Coming, Quicksilver! All right, Ballast!" ”

“ And so on and so on, till Sue could have fallen asleep for sheer weariness, save for those merry voices in her ear and the pain at her heart.
But when Clarice was gone, Sue unlocked her journal and wrote: 128
"I am very unhappy, and no one cares. I am alone in the world, and I feel that I have not long to live. My cheek is hollow, and my eyes gleam with an unnatural light; but I shall rest in the grave and no one will morn for me. I hear the voices of my former friends, but they think no more of the lonely outcast. ”

“ Scruples of conscience obliged Sue to have them always Templars or Knights of Malta, and they only fought against infidels. One of the knights had lost an eye; and the number of ways and places in which he had lost it was amazing: Saladin had run a lance into it at Acre; he had been tilting, just for fun, with Tancred, and Tancred hit him by mistake and put his eye out; and so on and so on. Then, there were the jewels, high up in the window; the small, splendid spots of ruby and violet and gold, which Sue was in the habit of taking out and making into jewels for her own adornment. ”

“ Tom added. "Lily has never had a fair chance, you know, Mary."
"Lily is a very nice little girl," said Teddy, with kind condescension. "There's a great deal more in Lily than people think. Mary, if you are going over there, you might take her these horse-chestnuts. She likes the milky ones, before they turn brown."
"Take them yourself, Master Teddy!" said Mary, laughing. "You know it's what you want to do. Bring her over, and we'll go and play in the orchard, all four of us. We'll play 'Wolf,' if you like." ”

“ That one in the pale blue silk tights—could he really be human, and go about on other days clad like other men?
Then, the wonderful jokes of the clown! Never was anything so funny, Sue thought. But the great, the unspeakable part, was when the Signora Fiorenza, the Queen of Flame, rode lightly into the arena on her milk-white Arabian charger. Such beauty Sue had never dreamed of; and, indeed, the Signora (whose name was Betsy Hankerson) was a handsome young woman enough, and her riding-habit of crimson velvet, if a little worn and rubbed, was still effective and becoming. ”

“ Lily could never understand why big girls spent so much good time in talking.
"Oh, yes!" cried Sue. "We must play, to get up an appetite for dinner; I've got one already, but I'll get another. What would you like to play, Clarice?"
"I don't care," said Clarice. "Anything you like."
"Oh, but do care, please!" cried Sue, imploringly; "because this is your picnic, really. We got it up for you; and we want you to have everything just as you like it; don't we, Mary?" 74
Mary assented civilly, and pressed Clarice to choose a game. ”

“ It's Sue—my Sue!"
Then it all came out. Promise or no promise, Mary must take the consequences. On her mother's neck she sobbed out the story: her foolish "solemn promise," the day-long anxiety, the agony of the last hour.
"Oh, what can have happened to her?" she cried. "Oh, Mammy, I'm so glad I told you! I'm so glad—so glad!"
"Of course you are, my dear little girl," said Mrs. Hart. "And now, stop crying, Mary. Thank goodness, there's your father driving into the yard this moment. Run and tell him; he will know just what to do."
"MARY STATIONED HERSELF AT THE WINDOW." ”

“ Clarice asked nothing better, and in a few minutes she was arrayed in the yellow muslin with blue cornflowers. But now came a difficulty: the gown would not meet in the back.
"Oh, what a shame!" said Sue. "Will you have to send it back, Clarice, or can you have it altered here? There is a very good dressmaker; she makes all our clothes,—Mary's and mine,—except what are made at home." ”

“ Sue protested, but was overruled. Clarice was determined, she said, to see how her little friend would look if she were properly dressed for once. In a few moments she was fastened into the blue muslin, and Clarice was telling her that she looked too perfectly sweet for anything.
"Now that is the way for you to dress, Sue Penrose. If I were you I should insist upon my mother's getting me a pair of stays to-morrow. Why, you look like a different girl. Why, you have an alegant figure—perfectly alegant!" ”

“ We meant this for a surprise, you know, Tom, but never mind! It's really better fun for us all to know."
"Lots!" said Tom. "I forgot, though, about the surprise part. And then—it'll be full moon—we'll go out Jack-o'-lanterning, and that'll be no end; and then Mammy says we can roast chestnuts, and Father has the bonfire all ready, and we'll have a celebration. A Quicksilver Celebration, eh, Sue?"
"Oh, Tom!" said Sue. "Not Quicksilver any more; just stupid, stupid, grubby lead—and rusty, too!"
"Lead doesn't rust," said Teddy, gravely. ”

“ I can't, Sue! It's no use! I am going to faint—I know I am."
"Nonsense!" said Sue, stoutly, though her heart sank. "Keep up a little, Clarice, do! There is a watering-trough a little farther on, and we can bathe our feet. That will be a great help; and we must be nearly half-way home now." 165
But tight lacing and tight shoes are not nonsense. They are very real things, and poor Clarice was really suffering more than Sue had any idea of. The stitch in her side was not imaginary this time. She stopped involuntarily to draw breath ”

“ Katy was so tiresome! But this girl with the fair hair and the beautiful name would have surprises three times a day, surprises with silver covers,—at least, they looked like silver,—and have four kinds of pie to choose from. And she came from New York! That was perhaps the most wonderful part of all. Sue sat down on her window-seat, gave a long sigh, and fell into a dream of New York. ”

“ I gave it a good squeeze, and she made a face as if I had broken her bones."
"You have a powerful grip, you know, Mary! Everybody isn't used to wrestling with boys; you probably did hurt her." 38
"I know, Mammy; I suppose I did squeeze too hard. Well! Sue had been showing her everything—all our things, that we play with together. She didn't say much,—well, perhaps she could not have said very much, for Sue was talking all the time,—but I felt—Mammy, I felt sure that she didn't really care about any of them. I know she laughed at the telephone, because I saw her. ”

“ Then Tom said, slowly and solemnly (no one could be so solemn as Tom when he tried) : "I beg your pardon, Miss Packard; I am very sorry. I will go away if you wish it, but I hope you will stay."
Sue wanted to hug Tom, but refrained. (She had decided a little while ago that she was getting too big to hug the boys any more.) "Tom, you are a darling," she whispered in his ear—"a perfect dear duck! And you can use the telephone all you like to-morrow. ”

“ Was this a girl of fifteen, whimpering like a baby? Was this the friend for whom she had given up Mary?
"And how are we ever to get home?" asked Clarice, in conclusion.
"We must walk!" said Sue, briefly.
"Walk!" shrieked Clarice. "Sue Penrose, are you crazy? It's twenty miles, if it's a step!"
"Nonsense!" said Sue. "It's a short six miles."
"That's just as bad!" moaned Clarice. 160 "You know I should die before we had gone a mile; you know I should, Sue! Isn't there some one we can borrow money from? Can't we go to the hotel and telephone to somebody at home?" ”

“ So it came to pass that on the Sunday after the Packards' arrival, Miss Clarice Packard, 26 rustling into her father's pew in all the conscious glory of a flowered organdie muslin and the biggest hat in town, found in the corner of the pew something that made her open her pale blue eyes wider than usual. It was a large heart of red sugar, tied round with a true-lover's knot of white satin ribbon. Looking round, she became aware of a pair of eyes fixed eagerly on her, the brightest eyes she had ever seen. They belonged to a little girl—well, not so very little, either ”

“ Clarice looked sympathetic. "Children are such a nuisance!" she said, and shrugged her shoulders. "Seems to me they ought to know when they are not wanted."
"Nonsense, Sue!" said Mary, ignoring the last speech. "Of course we will take Lily; 62 she'll be no trouble at all, and she will help a good deal with the wreaths and baskets. I'll see to her," she added, a little pang of bitterness mingling with one of self-reproach. She had not always wanted to take Lily when she and Sue were together. ”

“ Hart made. Well, and Sue would go up and look at her. Oh! if she herself were only a fairy prince in green and gold, or could change into one just for a little while! But, anyhow, she would look at the lovely maiden and say:
"Love, if thy tresses be so dark,—
But these tresses were fair! ”

“ It was not clear what evil things could come into the quiet room of the respectable family hotel, but whatever they might be, Sue was ready for them.
Sue's ideas of hotel life had become considerably modified since she had had some actual experience of it. Instead of being one round of excitement, as she had fancied, she was obliged to confess that it was often very dull. The Binns House was a quiet house, frequented mostly by "runners," who came and went, and with a small number of permanent boarders—old couples who were tired of housekeeping, or ancient single gentlemen. ”

“ Clarice was still whimpering and crying under her breath. Sue's eyes were blazing; her cheeks felt on fire. She ran hastily across the grounds, dragging Clarice after her by the hand. She felt every moment as if they 156 might be seized and carried back to that horrible den. Suppose the man should be coming after them now! He might put them in prison, and her mother would never know where she was. She choked back the sob that rose in her throat. On, on, as fast as feet could fly! At last the palings were reached and passed. ”