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

a new nervousness in hismanner; but that, perhaps, was because she was watching him soclosely, and because he was so constantly in her mind, owing to herapprehension as to how he would take the news of John McGuire'sblindness.

From the very first Susan had determined not to tell her news untilafter Mr. Burton had left the house. She could not have explained iteven to herself, but she had a feeling that it would be better to tellKeith when he was alone. She planned, also, to tell him casually, asit were, in the midst of other conversation—not as if it were the onething on her mind. In accordance with this, therefore, she forcedherself to finish her dishes and to set her kitchen in order beforeshe sought Keith in the living-room.

But Keith was not in the living-room; neither was he on the porch oranywhere in the yard.

With a troubled frown on her face Susan climbed the stairs to thesecond floor. Keith's room was silent, and empty, so far as humanpresence was concerned. So, too, was the studio, and every other roomon that floor.

At the front of the attic stairs Susan hesitated. The troubled frownon her face deepened as she glanced up the steep, narrow stairway.

She did not like to have Keith go off by himself to the attic, andalready now twice before she had found him up there, poking in thedrawers of an old desk that had been his father's. He had shut thedrawers quickly and had laughingly turned aside her questions when shehad asked him what in the world he was doing up there. And he had gotup immediately and had gone downstairs with her. But she had not likedthe look on his face. And to-day, as she hesitated at the foot of thestairs, she was remembering that look. But for only a moment.Resolutely then she lifted her chin, ran up the stairs, and opened theattic door.

Over at the desk by the window there was a swift movement—but not soswift that Susan did not see the revolver pushed under some loosepapers.

"Is that you, Susan?" asked Keith sharply. "Yes, honey. I jest came upto get somethin'."

Susan's face was white like paper, and her hands were cold andshaking, but her voice, except for a certain breathlessness, wascheerfully steady. With more or less noise and with a running fire ofinconsequent comment, she rummaged among the trunks and boxes,gradually working her way to, ward the desk where Keith still sat.

At the desk, with a sudden swift movement, she thrust the papers toone side and dropped her hand on the revolver. At the same momentKeith's arm shot out and his hand fell, covering hers.

She saw his young face flush and harden and his mouth set into sternlines.

"Susan, you'll be good enough, please, to take your hand off that," hesaid then sharply.

There was a moment's tense silence. Susan's eyes, agonized andpleading, were on his face. But Keith could not see that. He couldonly hear her words a moment later—light words, with a hidden laughin them, yet spoken with that same curious breathlessness.

"Faith, honey, an' how can I, with your own hand holdin' mine sotight?"

Keith removed his hand instantly. His set face darkened.

"This is not a joke, Susan, and I shall have to depend on your honorto let that revolver stay where it is. Unfortunately I am unable toSEE whether I am obeyed or not."

It was Susan's turn to flush. She drew back at once, leaving theweapon uncovered on the desk between them.

"I'm not takin' the pistol, Keith." The laugh was all gone fromSusan's voice now. So, too, was the breathlessness. The voice wassteady, grave, but very gentle. "We take matches an' pizen an' knivesaway from CHILDREN—not from grown men, Keith. The pistol is rightwhere you can reach it—if you want it."

[Illustration: KEITH'S ARM SHOT OUT AND HIS HAND FELL, COVERING HERS]

She saw the fingers of Keith's hand twitch and tighten. Otherwisethere was no answer. After a moment she went on speaking.

"But let me say jest this: 'tain't like you to be a—quitter, Keith."She saw him wince, but she did not wait for him to speak. "An' afteryou've done this thing, there ain't any one in the world goin' to beso sorry as you'll be. You mark my words."

It was like a sharp knife cutting a taut cord. The tense musclesrelaxed and Keith gave a sudden laugh. True, it was a short laugh, anda bitter one; but it was a laugh.

"You forget, Susan. If—if I carried that out I wouldn't be in theworld—to care."

"Shucks! You'd be in some world, Keith Burton, an' you know it. An'you'd feel nice lookin' down on the mess you'd made of THIS world,wouldn't you?"

"Well, if I was LOOKING, I'd be SEEING, wouldn't I?" cut in the youthgrimly. "Don't forget, Susan, that I'd be SEEING, please."

"Seein' ain't everything, Keith Burton. Jest remember that. There issome things you'd rather be blind than see. An' that's one of 'em.Besides, seein' ain't the only sensible you've got, an' there's such alot of things you can do, an'—"

"Oh, yes, I know," interrupted Keith fiercely, flinging out both hishands. "I can feel a book, and eat my dinner, and I can hear theshouts of the people cheering the boys that go marching by my door.But I'm tired of it all. I tell you I can't stand it—I CAN'T, Susan.Yes, I know that's a cheap way out of it," he went on, after a chokingpause, with a wave of his hand toward the revolver on the desk;" and acowardly one, too. I know all that. And maybe I wouldn't have—havedone it to-day, even if you hadn't come. I found it last week, and it—fascinated me. It seemed such an easy way out of it. Since then I'vebeen up here two or three times just to—to feel of it. Somehow Iliked to know it was here, and that, if—if I just couldn't standthings another minute—

"But—I've tried to be decent, honest I have. But I'm tired of beingamused and 'tended to like a ten-year-old boy. I don't want flowersand jellies and candies brought