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Updated: June 24, 2025
Truly, they were of fine leather, but with their high French heels, and flat gilt buttons, they might have been in style when Suzanna's mother was a very little girl, and, to be really candid, they would have lain under the anathema of being out of date even then.
Yet he remembered a few of Suzanna's values which were not based on the possession of money. Well, for Suzanna's sake he would listen, go away and forget. So he seated himself, and waited condescendingly for the inventor to continue. He himself said nothing, for silence, he had learned, was golden. Mr. Procter went on.
Her father wore his store clothes, shiny and grown tight for him. Above his winged collar his sensitive face showed pale and thin in the early morning light. His eyes, brown, soft, were like Suzanna's they had vision. He smiled now, half whimsically and wholly lovingly at her. "An eight-year-old princess," he said. Then the smile faded, and he half turned to the door.
Procter's eyes had taken in at once Suzanna's finery, but Mrs. Procter knew Suzanna; besides she did not always ask a direct question. Suzanna's mind worked clearly, but it worked by its own laws. So now the mother waited and toward the end of the meal she was rewarded for her patience. Suzanna put down her fork and began: "Mother, this is my first tucked-in day to do as I please in.
Jenny Bryson, in Suzanna's class, bragged of her father's financial condition, and indeed she was a resplendent advertisement of his success. Suzanna listened interestedly. She gazed with admiration at the velvet dress, the gold ring, and the pearl neck beads. She loved them all the smoothness of the velvet, the sparkle of the gold, the soft luster of the pearls. But she felt no envy.
And as they entered and stood all three in the hall, the dog feeling himself now in his new character as welcome as his human companions, she finished: "Suzanna's asleep." "My father wished greatly you would allow Suzanna to go to my grandmother, though it is late," put in Graham. "Could she be awakened?" asked David. And by the expression in his eyes Mrs.
The old lady's eyes wandered away again looking into distant countries, Suzanna had no doubt, and she hoped the strawberries were forgotten. But alas, she was wrong, for in a few moments the queen, bringing her eyes back to Suzanna's face recalled her desire: "I will have my strawberries," she began peremptorily.
Suzanna's face kindled. "Yes, my father's a great man," she said, simply. Then she turned to Graham: "I came to talk to you about something very important. I was going to ask you afterwards to speak to your father about my plan." "I may hear, then?" said Mr. Bartlett. "Shall we go on into the house? There's a little chill in the air."
"Father may be here for luncheon." "I'll remember, mother," said Suzanna. She kissed her mother, said good-bye to Mrs. Reynolds and started happily away. She reached the house at the top of the hill in a short time. The same uniformed man as of old gave her immediate admittance. "Mr. Massey is in the library," he said, evincing no surprise at Suzanna's unconventional appearance.
But when he spoke, he reverted to a name used a moment before by Suzanna, a name he knew well. "Who's your very philosophic friend, Suzanna Drusilla, you called her." Suzanna's eyes shone. "Drusilla? She's my special friend. She lives in a little house on the forked road. She's pretty and sweet and she has fancies, like children. She plays sometimes she's a queen. But she's lonely.
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