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Toward evening a gentleman called to see Miss Summerhaze, announcing himself as Mr. Falconer. When Susan entered the parlor she found a heavy-set, rather short man, who had bright gray eyes, a broad full forehead, and was altogether a very good-looking person. "I have called," he said immediately, "to inquire about the house you have advertised for rent on North Jefferson street."
You never go into society, and you wear your dresses the same way all the time, just as Grandma Summerhaze does. But I'm just making my début" and Gertrude flushed and tossed her head with a pretty confusion, because she was conscious of having made a sounding speech "and I need lots of things, such as the rest of the girls have." "My dear Gertrude," began Brother Tom, "'beauty unadorned' "
Susan quickly crossed the parlor, but stopped at the door: "Perhaps your sister would feel more secure and more at peace to come to us right away to-night. Sha'n't I bring her away to-night?" "It would be a great mercy if you would do so, Miss Summerhaze," Mr. Falconer replied with an earnest thankfulness in his voice.
Falconer was the man who had rented your house, and who has been running here so much," Gertrude said. "Well, I'd get that woman out of my house as quick as ever I could if I was you, Susan," said Mrs. Summerhaze. "Like as not the house will get a bad name, so you'll have trouble renting it." "I'm more concerned about Gertrude's name," Tom said. Gertrude's eyes flashed daggers at Tom.
"Not until I undertook to plan that house." "That is your first effort? You never planned a house before?" "No." "You ought to turn builder: you ought to open an architect's office." Susan laughed at the novel suggestion, for that was before the days when women were showing their heads in all the walks of life. "'Miss Summerhaze, Architect: that would make a very unique card.
But is he unworthy? is this proved? asked the sweet voice of Hope. Then the face which you were sure could never brighten, did brighten, but, alas! so little; for there was another voice, a voice that dismayed: "Why otherwise the silence, the mystery?" Persistently the question was repeated, till Mrs. Summerhaze came in and asked Susan to do some marketing for dinner.
It was picturesque, made so in great measure by a stricken look it had, and a strange still whiteness. It was one of those haunting faces that will not let themselves be forgotten a face that solemnized, because it indexed the mortal agony of a human soul. "Miss Summerhaze, this is my sister, Mrs. Patterson." said Mr. Falconer,
She broke the flowering mesh Of flaunting weeds, and plucked the modest bloom To wear it on her bosom all day long. So in pure breasts pure things find welcomest room, And poppied epics, flushed with blood and wrong, Are crushed to reach love's violets of song. Susan Susan Summerhaze was twenty-nine, and had never had a lover. You smile.
She says it is the most complete house of its kind that she ever saw. Who was your architect, Miss Summerhaze? I ask because the question has been asked of me by a gentleman who contemplates building an inexpensive residence." "I planned the house," Susan answered, a light coming into her face. "Indeed! In all its details?" "Yes, I planned everything." "Have you studied architecture?"
I don't know, Miss Summerhaze, why I should come to you for help when there are hundreds of others here whom I have known so much longer. I am following an impulse." He paused and looked at Susan, as if waiting for her reply. Happy Susan!
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