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

of things for himself, an' he's so happy in it! An'he doesn't mind seein' anybody now. An' it's all owin' to yourwonderful Keith an' his father. I wouldn't ever have believed it ofthem."

Susan's chin came up a bit.

"I would. I KNEW. An' I always told you that Daniel Burton was asuperlative man in every way, an' his son's jest like him. Only youwouldn't believe me."

"Nobody'd believe you," maintained Mrs. McGuire spiritedly. "Nobody'dbelieve such a thing could be as my John bein' changed like that—an'all those others down to the windin'-room, too. They say it'sperfectly marvelous what Keith an' his father are doin' with those menan' boys. Aren't they awful happy over it—Keith an' his father, Imean?"

"Daniel Burton is. Why, he's like a different man, Mis' McGuire. You'dknow that, jest to see him walk, an' hear him speak. An' I don't hearnothin' more about his longin' to get over there. I guess he thinkshe's got work enough to do right here. An' he hardly ever touches hiswar maps these days."

"But ain't Keith happy, too?"

"Y-yes, an' no," hesitated Susan, her face clouding a little. "Oh,he's gone into it heart an' soul; an' while he's workin' on somethin'he's all right. But when it's all quiet, an' he's settin' alone, Idon't like the look on his face. But I know he's glad to be helpin'down there; an' I know it's helpin' him, too."

"It's helpin' everybody—not forgettin' Miss Dorothy Parkman," addedMrs. McGuire, with a smile and a shrug, as she rose to go. "But, then,of course, we all know what she's after."

"After! What do you mean?"

"Susan Betts!" With a jerk Mrs. McGuire faced about. "It ain'tpossible, with eyes in your head, that you hain't seen!"

"Seen what?"

"Well, my lan'! With that girl throwin' herself at Daniel Burton'shead for the last six weeks, an' you calmly set there an' ask 'seenwhat?'!"

"Daniel Burton—Dorothy Parkman!" There was no mistaking Susan'sdumfounded amazement.

"Yes, Daniel Burton an' Dorothy Parkman. Oh, I used to think it wasKeith; but when the money came to old Daniel I guess she thought hewasn't so old, after all. Besides, Keith, with his handicap—youcouldn't blame the girl, after all, I s'pose."

"Daniel Burton an' Dorothy Parkman!" repeated Susan, this time withthe faintness of stupefaction.

"Why, Susan, you must've seen it—her runnin' in here every day,walkin' home with him, an' talk, talk, talkin' to him every chance shegets!"

"But, they—they've been makin' plans for—for the work," murmured

Susan.

"Work! Well, I guess it no need to've taken quite so manyconsultations for just the work. Besides, she never thought of such ascheme as this before the money came, did she? Not much she did! Oh,come, Susan, wake up! She'll be walkin' off with him right under yournose if you don't look out," finished Mrs. McGuire with a sly laugh,as she took her departure.

Left alone, Susan sat for some time absorbed in thought, a deep frownon her face; then with a sigh and a shrug, as if throwing off anincomprehensible burden, she opened the paper Mrs. McGuire had leftwith her.

Once, twice, three times she read the verses; then with a low chuckleshe folded up the paper, tucked it into her apron pocket, and rose toher feet. A minute later she had attacked the pile of dishes in thesink, and was singing lustily:

"I've taken my worries, an' taken my woes,

 I have, I have,

 An' shut 'em up where nobody knows,

 I have, I have.

 I chucked 'em down, that's what I did,

 An' now I'm sittin' upon the lid,

 An' we'll all feel gay when Johnny comes marchin' home.

 I'm sittin' upon the lid, I am,

 Hurrah! Hurrah!

 I'm tryin' to be a little lamb,

 Hurrah! Hurrah!

 But I'm feelin' more like a great big slam

 Than a nice little peaceful woolly lamb,

 But we'll all feel gay when Johnny comes marchin' home."

CHAPTER XXXII

THE KEY

There was no work at the winding-room Saturday afternoons, and it wason Saturday afternoon that Susan found Keith sitting idle-handed inhis chair by the window in the living-room.

As was her custom she spoke the moment she entered the room—but notbefore she had noted the listless attitude and wistful face of theyouth over by the window.

"Keith, I've been thinkin'."

"Bad practice, Susan—sometimes," he laughed whimsically.

"Not this time."

"Poetry?"

She shook her head.

"No. I ain't poetizin' so much these days, though I did write oneyesterday—about the ways of the world. I'm goin' to read it to you,too, by an' by. But that's jest a common poem about common, every-dayfolks. An' this thing I was thinkin' about was—was diff'rent."

"And so you couldn't put this into a poem—eh?"

Susan shook her head again and sighed.

"No. An' it's been that way lots o' times lately, 'specially since Iseen John McGuire's poems—so fine an' bumtious! Oh, I have theperspiration to write, lots o' times, an' I yield up to it an' write.But somehow, when it's done, I hain't said a mite what I want to, an'I hain't said it the way I want to, either. I think maybe havin' somany of 'em disinclined by them editors has made me kinder fearsome."

"I'm afraid it has, Susan," he smiled.

"Now, this afternoon, what I was thinkin' about—once I'd've made apoem of that easy; but to-day I didn't even try. I KNEW I couldn't doit. An', say, Keith, it was you I was thinkin' about."

"Heavens, Susan! A poem out of me? No wonder your muse balked! I'mafraid you'd find even—er—perspiration wouldn't make a poem out ofme."

"Keith, do you remember?" Susan was still earnest and preoccupied. "Itold you once that it didn't make no diff'rence if God had closed thedoor of your eyes. He'd open up another room to you sometime, an' giveyou the key to unlock the door. An' he has. An' now you've got it—that key."

"I've got it—the key!"

"Yes. It's that work down there—helpin' them blind men an' boys toget hold of their souls again. Oh, Keith, don't you see? An' it's sucha big, wide room that God has given you, an' it's all yours. Thereain't no one that can help them poor blind soldiers like