Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

a shrug and a lift of his eyebrows?) "If YOUhaven't the money to hire her—" But Mrs. Colebrook, with an indignanttoss of her head, had left the room.

"Mr. Burton!" Before the man could speak Susan had the floor again.

"Can't you do somethin', sir? Can't you?"

"Do something, Susan?" frowned the man.

"Yes, with your sister," urged Susan. "I don't mean because she's sohaughty an' impious. I can stand that. It's about Keith I'm talkin'about. Mr. Burton, Keith won't never get well, never, so's he can havethat operator on his eyes, unless he takes some exercise an' gets hisstrength back. The nurse an' the doctor—they both said he wouldn't."

"Yes, yes, I know, Susan," fumed the man impatiently, beginning topace up and down the room. "And that's just what we're trying to do—get his strength back."

"But he ain't—he won't—he can't," choked Susan feverishly. "Mr.Burton, I KNOW you don't want to talk about it, but you've got to. I'mall Keith's got to look out for him." The father of Keith gave aninarticulate gasp, but Susan plunged on unheeding. "An' he'll neverget well if he ain't let to get up an' stand an' walk an' eat an' sitdown himself. But Mis' Colebrook won't let him. She won't let him doanything. She keeps sayin', 'Don't do it, oh, don't do it,' all thetime,—when she ought to say, 'Do it, do it, do it!' Mr. Burton,cryin' an' wringin' your hands an' moanin', 'Oh, Keithie, darling!'won't make a boy grow red blood an' make you feel so fine you want toknock a man down! Mr. Burton, I want you to tell that woman to let metake care of that boy for jest one week—ONE WEEK, an' her not to comenear him with her snivelin' an'—"

But Daniel Burton, with two hands upflung, and a head that ducked asif before an oncoming blow, had rushed from the room. For the secondtime that day Daniel Burton had fled—to the attic.

CHAPTER XI

NOT PATS BUT SCRATCHES

Mrs. Colebrook went home the next day. She wore the air of an injuredmartyr at breakfast. She told her brother that, of course, if hepreferred to have an ignorant servant girl take care of his poorafflicted son, she had nothing to say; but that certainly he could notexpect HER to stay, too, especially after being insulted as she hadbeen.

Daniel Burton had remonstrated feebly, shrugged his shoulders andflung his arms about in his usual gestures of impotent annoyance.

Susan, in the kitchen, went doggedly about her work, singing,meanwhile, what Keith called her "mad" song. When Susan wasparticularly "worked up" over something, "jest b'ilin' inside" as sheexpressed it, she always sang this song—her own composition, to thetune of "When Johnny Comes Marching Home":

     "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."

When Daniel Burton, this morning, therefore, heard Susan singing thissong, he was in no doubt as to Susan's state of mind—a fact whichcertainly did not add to his own serenity.

Upstairs, Keith, wearily indifferent as to everything that was takingplace about him, lay motionless as usual, his face turned toward thewall.

And at ten o'clock Mrs. Colebrook went. Five minutes later DanielBurton entered the kitchen—a proceeding so extraordinary that Susanbroke off her song in the middle of a "Hurrah" and grew actually pale.

"What is it?—KEITH? Is anything the matter with Keith?" she faltered.

Ignoring her question the man strode into the room.

"Well, Susan, this time you've done it," he ejaculated tersely.

"Done it—to Keith—ME? Why, Mr. Burton, what do you mean? Is Keith—worse?" chattered Susan, with dry lips. "It was only a little hash Itook up. He simply won't eat that oatmeal stuff, an'—"

"No, no, I don't mean the hash," interrupted the man irritably. "Keithis all right—that is, he is just as he has been. It's my sister, Mrs.Colebrook. She's gone."

"Gone—for good?"

"Yes, she's gone home."

"Glory be!" The color came back to Susan's face in a flood, and frankdelight chased the terror from her eyes. "Now we can do somethin'worthwhile."

"I reckon you'll find you have to do something, Susan. You know verywell I can't afford to hire a nurse—now."

"I don't want one."

"But there's all the other work, too."

"Work! Why, Mr. Burton, I won't mind a little work if I can have thatblessed boy all to myself with no one to feed him oatmeal mush with aspoon, an' snivel over him. You jest wait. The first elemental thingis to learn him self-defiance, so he can do things for himself. Thenhe'll begin to get his health an' strength for the operator."

"You're forgetting the money, Susan. It costs money for that."

Susan's face fell.

"Yes, sir, I know." She hesitated, then went on, her color deepening."An' I hain't sold—none o' them poems yet. But there's othermagazines, a whole lot of 'em, that I hain't tried. Somebody's sure totake 'em some time."

"I'm glad your courage is still good, Susan; but I'm afraid the dearpublic is going to appreciate your poems about the way it does—mypictures," shrugged the man bitterly, as he turned and left the room.

Not waiting to finish setting her kitchen in order, Susan ran up theback stairs to Keith's room.

     "Well, your aunt is gone, an' I'm on,

      An' here we are together.

      We'll chuck our worries into pawn,

      An' how do you like the weather?"

she greeted him gayly. "How about gettin' up? Come on! Such a lazyboy! Here it is away in the middle of the forenoon, an' you abed likethis!"

But it was not to be so easy this time. Keith was not to be cajoledinto getting up and dressing himself even to beat Susan's record.Steadfastly he resisted all