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Updated: June 24, 2025
They're all right, though. When I saw her at the table I was going to balk about sitting there, then I changed my mind. I had as much right to be there as she. I told her that, too." "Some little scrapper," murmured Maizie. There was cunning significance, however, in the slow glance she cast at Marian. "What did she say to you?" Marian had returned Maizie's glance with one of equal meaning.
Tonight as they sat with Jeanne and Francisco in front of the crackling fire, Maizie's hunger for a home of her own and the man she loved was so plain that Jeanne arose impulsively and put an arm about her guest. She said nothing, but Maizie understood. There was a lump in her throat. "I should not think such things," she told herself. "I am selfish ... unfilial." Robert was talking.
Suzanna found a book, and at Maizie's earnest request read a chapter from it aloud, while Peter descended into the cellar on business of his own. "I'd rather you'd tell me a story of your own, Suzanna," said Maizie, when the chapter was concluded. "Well, I can't make up stories today," said Suzanna. "Today is father's day, and I'm thinking every minute of The Machine."
Often when swift anger surged through her, anger directed against the little sister, she brought to bear a strong control, as she remembered Maizie's great awakening. She returned to her surroundings in a moment. "I must be going, Miss Massey. I wish you'd come to see us. We've got a lovely new rug in the front room and mother has two new dresses for herself. She is awfully pretty in them."
"I wonder if he still hates everyone who disagrees with him. Loring Pickering was one of his pet enemies." "Oh, Dennis is forgiving, like all Irishmen," said Robert. Impulsively he laid a hand on Maizie's. "Maizie is part Irish, too," he added, meaningly. The girl smiled at him star-eyed. For she understood. Francisco met the erstwhile agitator on the street one day.
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.
Once she paused in her haste, edged up to where he stood with one arm resting on the mantelpiece, placed an arm on each of his shoulders and let her hands dangle loose-wristed down his back. "Tired boy, to-night! Huh? Maizie's poor tired boy!" "Now, now!"
"Go see if the baby is still asleep, and look down the road for Peter." Maizie went off obediently, but she returned in a moment with the news that the baby still slept and Peter was playing near Mr. Reynolds' gate. She seated herself as before. She wanted to hear more of Suzanna's fancies, but Suzanna remained silent, having been chilled a little by Maizie's practicality.
"Are you going to play at something tomorrow?" "Tomorrow I shall be an Only Child," said Suzanna. "Don't you remember?" "And not my sister?" asked Maizie. Suzanna caught the yearning in Maizie's voice. "Well," she said, "I'll be your closest friend, Maizie." Breakfast the next morning was nearly concluded when Suzanna made her appearance, but she met with no reproof.
Lest they overflow she rose quickly from the table and left the room. "Maizie's in a bad humor today," said Mrs. Procter to Suzanna. "Maybe she feels bad today, mother, because it's Wednesday." "Well, what in the world has the day to do with it!" Mrs. Procter exclaimed. "Well, Wednesday you know is the shape of a big black bear.
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