Dawn by Eleanor Porter (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

"What was it?" Mrs. Colebrook asked the question haughtily,imperiously.

Susan's eyes grew cold like steel.

"It was what he asked for, ma'am, an' he's ate it. Do you want yourtea strong or weak, ma'am?"

Mrs. Colebrook bit her lip.

"I'll not take any tea at all," she said coldly. "And, Susan!"

"Yes, ma'am." Susan turned, her hand on the doorknob.

"Hereafter I will take up Master Keith's meals myself. He is in mycharge now."

There was no reply—in words. But the dining-room door after Susanshut with a short, crisp snap.

After supper Mrs. Colebrook went out into the kitchen.

"You may prepare oatmeal and dry toast and a glass of milk for Master

Keith to-morrow morning, Susan. I will take them up myself."

"He won't eat 'em. He don't like 'em—not none of them things."

"I think he will if I tell him to. At all events, they are what heshould eat, and you may prepare them as I said."

"Very well, ma'am."

Susan's lips came together in a thin, white line, and Mrs. Colebrookleft the kitchen.

Keith did not eat his toast and oatmeal the next morning, though hisaunt sat on the edge of the bed, called him her poor, afflicted,darling boy, and attempted to feed him herself with a spoon.

Keith turned his face to the wall and said he didn't want anybreakfast. Whereupon his aunt sighed, and stroked his head; and Keithhated to have his head stroked, as Susan could have told her.

"Of course, you don't want any breakfast, you poor, sightless lamb,"she moaned. "And I don't blame you. Oh, Keithie, Keithie, when I seeyou lying there like that, with your poor useless eyes—! But you musteat, dear, you must eat. Now, come, just a weeny, teeny mouthful toplease auntie!"

But Keith turned his face even more determinedly to the wall, andmoved his limbs under the bed clothes in a motion very much like akick. He would have nothing whatever to do with the "weeny, teenymouthfuls," not even to please auntie. And after a vain attempt toremove his tortured head, entirely away from those gently strokingringers, he said he guessed he would get up and be dressed.

"Oh, Keithie, are you well enough, dear? Are you sure you are strongenough? I'm sure you must be ill this morning. You haven't eaten a bitof breakfast. And if anything should happen to you when you were in MYcare—"

"Of course I'm well enough," insisted the boy irritably.

"Then I'll get your clothes, dear, and help you dress, if you will becareful not to overdo."

"I don't want any help."

"Why, Keithie, you'll HAVE to have some one help you. How do yousuppose your poor blind eyes are going to let you dress yourself allalone, when you can't see a thing? Why, dear child, you'll have tohave help now about everything you do. Now I'll get your clothes.Where are they, dear? In this closet?"

"I don't know. I don't want 'em. I—I've decided I don't want to getup, after all."

"You ARE too tired, then?"

"Yes, I'm too tired." And Keith, with another spasmodic jerk under thebedclothes, turned his face to the wall again.

"All right, dear, you shan't. That's the better way, I think myself,"sighed his aunt. "I wouldn't have you overtax yourself for the world.Now isn't there anything, ANYTHING I can do for you?"

And Keith said no, not a thing, not a single thing. And his face wasstill to the wall.

"Then if you're all right, absolutely all right, I'll go out to walkand get a little fresh air. Now don't move. Don't stir. TRY to go tosleep if you can. And if you want anything, just ring. I'll put thislittle bell right by your hand on the bed; and you must ring if youwant anything, ANYTHING. Then Susan will come and get it for you.There, the bell's right here. See? Oh, no, no, you CAN'T see!" shebroke off suddenly, with a wailing sob. "Why will I keep talking toyou as if you could?"

"Well, I wish you WOULD talk to me as if I could see," stormed Keithpassionately, sitting upright in bed and flinging out his arms. "Itell you I don't want to be different! It's because I AM differentthat I am so—-"

But his aunt, aghast, interrupted him, and pushed him back.

"Oh, Keithie, darling, lie down! You mustn't thrash yourself aroundlike that," she remonstrated. "Why, you'll make yourself ill. There,that's better. Now go to sleep. I'm going out before you can talk anymore, and get yourself all worked up again," she finished, hurryingout of the room with the breakfast tray.

A little later in the kitchen she faced Susan a bit haughtily.

"Master Keith is going to sleep," she said, putting down the breakfasttray. "I have left a bell within reach of his hand, and he will callyou if he wants anything. I am going out to get a little air."

"All right, ma'am." Susan kept right on with the dish she was drying.

"You are sure you can hear the bell?"

"Oh, yes, my hearin' ain't repaired in the least, ma'am." Susan turnedher back and picked up another dish. Plainly, for Susan, the matterwas closed.

Mrs. Colebrook, after a vexed biting of her lip and a frowning glancetoward Susan's substantial back, shrugged her shoulders and left thekitchen. A minute later, still hatless, she crossed the yard andentered the McGuires' side door.

"Take the air, indeed!" muttered Susan, watching from the kitchenwindow. "A whole lot of fresh air she'll get in Mis' McGuire'skitchen!"

With another glance to make sure that Mrs. Nettie Colebrook was safelybehind the McGuires' closed door, Susan crossed the kitchen and liftedthe napkin of the breakfast tray.

"Humph!" she grunted angrily, surveying the almost untouchedbreakfast. "I thought as much! But I was ready for you, my lady. Toastan' oatmeal, indeed!" With another glance over her shoulder at theMcGuire side door Susan strode to the stove and took from the oven aplate of crisply browned hash and a hot corn muffin. Two minuteslater, with a wonderfully appetizing-looking tray, she tapped atKeith's door and entered the room.

"Here's your breakfast, boy," she announced cheerily.

"I didn't want any breakfast," came crossly from the bed.

"Of course you didn't want