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

opposite each other. But in thekitchen, a few minutes later, she muttered to herself:

"Pooh! I needn't have worried. They've got sense, both of 'em, an'they know that what's got to be has got to be. That's all. An' that itdon't do no good to fuss. I needn't have worried."

But Susan did worry. She did not like the look on Keith's face. Shedid not like the nervous twitching of his hands. She did not like theexaggerated cheerfulness of his manner.

And Keith WAS cheerful. He played solitaire with his marked cards andwhistled. He worked at his raised-picture puzzles and sang snatches ofmerry song. He talked with anybody who came near him—talked very fastand laughed a great deal. But behind the whistling and the singing andthe laughter Susan detected a tense strain and nervousness that shedid not like. And at times, when she knew Keith thought himself alone,there was an expression on his face that disturbed Susan not a little.

But because, outwardly, it was all "cheerfulness," Susan kept herpeace; but she also kept her eyes on Keith.

CHAPTER XXI

THE LION

Keith had not been home a week before it was seen that Hinsdale wasinclined to make a lion of the boy.

Women brought him jelly and fruit, and men clapped him on the shoulderand said, "How are you, my boy?" in voices that were not quite steady.Young girls brought him flowers, and asked Susan if they could notread or sing or do SOMETHING to amuse him. Children stood about thegate and stared, talking in awe-struck whispers, happy if they couldcatch a glimpse of his face at the window.

A part of this Susan succeeded in keeping from Keith—Susan had awell-founded belief that Keith would not care to be a lion. But agreat deal of it came to his knowledge, of course, in spite ofanything she could do. However, she told herself that she need nothave worried, for if Keith had recognized it for what it was, he madeno sign; and even Susan herself could find no fault with his behavior.He was cordial, cheery, almost gay, outwardly. But inwardly—

Susan was still keeping her eyes on Keith.

Mrs. McGuire came often to see Keith. She said she knew he would wantto hear John's letters. And there were all the old ones, besides thenew ones that came from time to time. She brought them all, and readthem to him. She talked about the young soldier, too, a great deal, tothe blind boy—She explained to Susan that she wanted to do everythingshe could to get him out of himself and interest him in the worldoutside; and that she didn't know any better way to do it than to tellhim of these brave soldiers who were doing something so really worthwhile in the world.

"An' he's so interested—the dear boy!" she concluded, with a sigh.

"An' so brave! I think he's the bravest thing I ever saw, Susan

Betts."

"Yes, he is—brave," said Susan, a little shortly—so shortly thatMrs. McGuire opened her eyes a bit, and wondered why Susan's lips hadsnapped tight shut in that straight, hard line.

"But what ails the woman?" she muttered to herself, vexedly, as shecrossed the back yard to her own door. "Wasn't she herself alwaysbraggin' about his bein' so brave? Humph! There's no such thing aspleasin' some folks, it seems!" finished Mrs. McGuire as she enteredher own door.

But Mrs. McGuire was not the only frequent caller. There was Mazie

Sanborn.

Mazie began by coming every two or three days with flowers and fudge.Then she brought the latest novel one day and suggested that she readit to Keith.

Susan was skeptical of this, even fearful. She had not forgottenKeith's frenzied avoidance of such callers in the old days. But to hersurprise now Keith welcomed Mazie joyously—so joyously that Susanbegan to suspect that behind the joyousness lay an eagerness towelcome anything that would help him to forget himself.

She was the more suspicious of this during the days that followed, asshe saw this same nervous eagerness displayed every time any onecalled at the house. Susan's joy then at Keith's gracious response tovisitors' attentions changed to a vague uneasiness. Behind and beyondit all lay an intangible something upon which Susan could not placeher finger, but which filled her heart with distrust. And so still shekept her eyes on Keith.

In June Dorothy Parkman came to Hinsdale. She came at once to seeSusan. But she would only step inside the hall, and she spoke low andhurriedly, looking fearfully toward the closed doors beyond thestairway.

"I HAD to come—to see how he was," she began, a little breathlessly."And I wanted to ask you if you thought I could do any good or—or beany help to him, either as Miss Stewart or Dorothy Parkman. Only I—Isuppose I would HAVE to be Dorothy Parkman now. I couldn't keep theother up forever, of course. But I don't know how to tell—" Shestopped, and looked again fearfully toward the closed doors. "Susan,how—how IS he?" she finished unsteadily.

"He's well—very well."

"He sees people—Mazie says he sees everybody now.

'Yes, oh, yes, he sees people."

'That's why I thought perhaps he wouldn't mind ME now—I mean the realme," faltered the girl wistfully. "Maybe." Susan's sigh and frownexpressed doubt.

"But he's real brave," challenged the girl quickly. "Mazie SAID hewas."

"I know. Everybody says—he's brave." There was an odd constraint inSusan's voice, but the girl was too intent on her own problem tonotice it.

"And that's why I hoped—about me, you know—that he wouldn't mind—now. And, of course, it can't make any difference—about his eyes, forhe doesn't need father, or—or any one now." Her voice broke. "Oh,Susan, I want to help, some way, if I can! WOULD he see me, do youthink?"

"He ought to. He sees everybody else."

"I know. Mazie says—"

"Does Mazie know about you?" interrupted Susan. "I mean, about yourbeing 'Miss Stewart'?"

"A little, but not much. I told her once that he 'most always calledme 'Miss Stewart,' but I never made anything of it, and I never toldher how much I saw of him out home. Some way, I—" She stopped short,with a quick indrawing