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"I'll always be good to you and when I'm grown up I'll buy you silk dresses and pretty hats and take you to hear beautiful music." Later they went downstairs together. In the kitchen Maizie was amusing the baby as he sat in his high chair. She looked around as Suzanna entered: "Are you going to see Drusilla now," asked Maizie. "Who's Drusilla?" asked Mrs. Procter with interest.
At this moment the timid little valet appeared in the doorway. "Anything you wish, sir?" he began. "Are you quite comfortable?" "You infernal idiot!" bawled the man in the chair. "Can anyone be comfortable with rheumatism in his knee?" The little man precipitately retired. "You're awful cross," Suzanna commented.
"Suzanna, dear, what do you think? Mrs. Graham Woods Bartlett was here during your absence." "To visit us, mother? Oh, tell me all about it," Suzanna cried. "She wants to take you and Maizie and Peter to the seashore for a whole month. There, Suzanna! What do you think of that?" Suzanna stood absolutely still. Then exclaimed: "To the seashore, mother! Why I don't think I can stand the joy of it.
"A real queen," returned the old lady. "It's not generally known by those who serve me, nor even suspected by my own son who lives yonder in the big house on the hill. But I'm the real queen of Spain, deposed from the hearts of her people, from the hearts of her own nearest." Suzanna nodded. She looked over toward the hill.
She darted here and there, soothing the baby with a practiced hand, pouring her husband's coffee, helping voracious Peter, her busy mind anticipating all the day's tasks. Suzanna loved and admired her mother. She loved the way the luxuriant dark hair was wound round and round the small head. She loved the rare smile, the soft blue eyes fringed in black lashes.
Suzanna settled herself to look out of the window at the passing landscape, so exhilaratingly new to her. Maizie sat beside her, Peter across the aisle with Graham. Little Daphne was cuddled close to Mrs. Bartlett. Mr. Bartlett was in the dining-car. Maizie whispered to her sister: "We've come to the future now, haven't we, Suzanna?" "Why, you can't ever come to the future," returned Suzanna.
Oh, why was it considered better for a grandmother, one who had fancies, to live alone in a small house, with every comfort it is true, but with no one of her very own close beside her! He looked over at Suzanna. She was walking close to Drusilla, and talking earnestly as was her way. Suzanna never went out into the world but some object started a train of thought of keen interest.
Maizie sank down at her sister's feet. She listened in awe as Suzanna dramatically repeated the first part of the poem. Her gestures were remarkable, her voice charged with feeling. "It's beautiful, Suzanna," said Maizie. "Everybody will listen and look at you in your new dress." "O, it isn't a dress, Maizie," cried Suzanna, the while her small fingers dexterously wove the needle in and out.
For days Maizie lived in the sanctity of the thought that the Master of all had smiled at her. But even so marvelous an occurrence, so sweet a marking out of her above all the children in the world, failed completely on one occasion to help her overcome a mood of sullenness. She awoke late one morning, and found that Suzanna had arisen and gone down stairs.
A white-clad nurse came tiptoeing in, looked at her patient, nodded reassuringly and went out again. "I knew you were a queen, Drusilla," said Suzanna, "because you were so beautiful, and so haughty." She leaned forward till her young face was very close to the old fading one. "And you told me something that day about the chain that binds everybody in the world to everyone else.
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