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As the carriage did not stop she called out: "Mr. Eagle Man! Oh, Mr. Eagle Man!" The coachman involuntarily pulled in his horses. He didn't know what peremptory signal would be given him to move on, or what inquiry as to his sanity would scorchingly be made, but Suzanna's eager voice impelled him to stop. Mr. Massey leaned over the side of the carriage.
Though she could send up no airships of her own, she loved to contemplate Suzanna's daring flights. "I'll do anything, Suzanna," she promised. So Suzanna gave Maizie her news. Hearing it, Maizie's lips quivered, but she kept back the tears by the exercise of great control. They were upstairs in their own room. It was late afternoon. Peter was out playing. Mrs.
"Mother," she cried, softly, "when I recite 'The Little Martyr of Smyrna' up on the big platform, I'm afraid I won't be humble in spirit. It's too much to be humble, isn't it, when you've got a whole bolt of lace on your dress?" Mrs. Procter, quite used to Suzanna's intensities, answered, running the machine deftly as she spoke: "Oh, you'll be all right, Suzanna.
It's all empty, that big space, and so I have filled it in with a day of my own. If mother will let me, I'm going to have two tucked-in days. On the first I'm a princess, and on the second, I shall be an Only Child." "Very well, little girl," said Suzanna's father. "And now I hear others moving about upstairs. Will you stay to breakfast with us, Princess?"
The understanding did come, sure and tender; a mother who sometimes smiled at you in that complete, deep way, as Suzanna's mother had smiled at her the day she wore her leghorn hat with the daisies. "Can Daphne play with us?" asked Suzanna after awhile. "And can we take her home to see our mother?" The man's face brightened at this. "Why, that will be fine," he said.
"You can't be kind to them; they won't let you. And I had to slap the girl orphan." The one alluded to thrust her small fist in her eye. Her slight body shook with sobs. Suzanna's heart was moved. She addressed her sister vigorously. "That isn't the way to treat people who are weary and homeless, Maizie Procter," she began. "You ought to be kindest in the whole world to sorry ones!"
She moved towards the door. "But, mother, listen, please." Suzanna's hands were locked till they showed white at the knuckles. "If you don't cut the goods away the green petticoat won't gleam through the lace! You see, it's a rose dress and a rose has shining green leaves, just showing." The plea was ardent, but Mrs. Procter was firm. Indeed she did not glance at Suzanna.
Suzanna's face brightened; the clouds dispelled themselves, so she was able to greet Graham with much of her old smile. "All ready?" he cried as he ran up the steps. "Father and mother and a maid are following in another carriage. Nancy is with us." He was quite plainly excited by some thought deeper than the mere fact of going to the seashore.
We saw together the sapphire sparkle of the water, the golden yellow of the sands; but in reality we beheld only one another's face." By this time they had reached the gate and both stopped and stood looking down the quiet road. But the little old lady still clung to Suzanna's arm and her eyes had a far-away look.
And then one swift, cuddling memory of little Maizie alone in bed across the street brought the hot tears to Suzanna's eyes, but she winked them resolutely back as she lifted the black, shiny bag. "Tomorrow," she said to Mrs. Reynolds, "you can cut the goods away from under the lace on my pink dress, can't you?" She went on, not waiting for an answer. "Shall I go right along upstairs?" Mrs.
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