Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

"It's that way with me in my poetry. Ijest HAVE to get right ahead while the fuse burns, an' spell 'emsomehow, anyhow, so's to get 'em down while I'm in the fit of it. Hecouldn't do it. I can see that now. But, Keith, couldn't YOU do it?—take it down, I mean, as he talked, like a stylographer?"

Keith shook his head.

"I wish I could. But I couldn't, I know I couldn't. I couldn't beginto do it fast enough to keep up with him, and 't would spoil it all tohave to ask him to slow down. When a man's got a couple of Huns comingstraight for him, and he knows he's got to get 'em both at once, youcan't very well sing out: 'Here, wait—wait a minute till I get thatlast sentence down!'"

"I know, I know," nodded Susan again. She paused, drew a long sigh,and turned her eyes out the window. Up the walk was coming DanielBurton. His step was slow, his head was bowed. He looked like anythingbut the happy possessor of new wealth. Susan frowned as she watchedhim.

"I wish your father—-" she began. Suddenly she stopped. A new lighthad leaped to her eyes. "Keith, Keith," she cried eagerly. "I have it!Your father—he could do it—I know he could!"

"Do what?"

"Take down John McGuire's story. Couldn't he do it?"

"Why, y-yes, he could, I think," hesitated Keith doubtfully. "Hedoesn't know shorthand, but he—he's got eyes" (Keith's voice broke alittle) "and he could SEE what he was doing, and he could take downenough of it so he could patch it up afterwards, I'm sure. But Susan,John McGuire wouldn't TELL it to HIM. Don't you see? He won't even seeanybody but me, and he didn't talk like this even to me until to-day.How's dad going to hear it to write it down? Tell me that?"

"But he could overhear it, Keith. No, no, don't look like that," sheprotested hurriedly, as Keith began to frown. "Jest listen a minute.It would be jest as easy. He could be over on the grass right close,where he could hear every word; an' you could get John to talkin', an'as soon as he got really started on a story your father could begin towrite, an' John wouldn't know a thing about it; an'—"

"Yes, you're quite right—John wouldn't know a thing about it," brokein Keith, with a passion so sudden and bitter that Susan fell back indismay.

"Why, Keith!" she exclaimed, her startled eyes on his quivering face.

"I wonder if you think I'd do it!" he demanded. "I wonder if youreally think I'd cheat that poor fellow into talking to me justbecause he hadn't eyes to see that I wasn't the only one in hisaudience!"

"But, Keith, he wouldn't mind; he wouldn't mind a bit," urged Susan,"if he didn't know an'—"

"Oh, no, he wouldn't mind being cheated and deceived and made a foolof, just because he couldn't see!"

"No, he wouldn't mind," persisted Susan stoutly. "It wouldn't be amean listenin', nor sneak listenin'. It wouldn't be listenin' tothings he didn't want us to hear. He'd be glad, after it was all done,an'—"

"Would he!" choked Keith, still more bitterly. "Maybe you think Iwas glad after it was all done, and I found I'd been fooled andcheated into thinking the girl that was reading and talking to me andplaying games with me was a girl I had never known before—a girl whowas what she pretended to be, a new friend doing it all because shewanted to, because she liked to."

"But, Keith, I'm sure that Dorothy liked—"

"There, there, Susan," interposed Keith, with quickly uplifted hand."We'll not discuss it, please, Yes, I know, I began the subjectmyself, and it was my fault; but when I heard you say John McGuirewould be glad when he found out how we'd lied to his poor blind eyes,I—I just couldn't hold it in. I had to say something. But never mindthat now, Susan; only you'll—you'll have to understand I mean what Isay. There's no letting dad copy that story on the sly."

"But there's a way, there must be a way," argued Susan feverishly."Only think what it would mean to that boy if we could get him startedto writin' books—what he's wanted to do all his life. Oh, Keith, why,he'd even forget his eyes then."

"It would—help some." Keith drew in his breath and held it a momentsuspended. "And he'd even be helping us to win out—over there; for ifwe could get that story of his on paper as he told it to me, thefellow that reads it wouldn't need any recruiting station to send himover there. If there was only a way that father could—"

"There is, an' we'll find it," interposed Susan eagerly. "I know wewill. An' Keith, it's goin' to be 'most as good for him as it is forJohn McGuire. He's nervous as a witch since he quit his job."

"I know." A swift cloud crossed the boy's face. "But 'twasn't givingup his job that's made him nervous, Susan, as you and I both know verywell. However, we'll see. And you may be sure if there is a way I'llfind it, Susan," he finished a bit wearily, as he turned to goupstairs.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE WAY

Keith was still looking for "the way," when October came, bringingcrisp days and chilly winds. When not too cold, the boys still sat outof doors. When it was too cold, John McGuire did not appear at all onhis back porch, and Keith did not have the courage to make a boldadvance to the McGuire door and ask admittance. There came a day,however, when a cold east wind came up after they were wellestablished in their porch chairs for the morning. They were on theBurton porch this time, and Keith suddenly determined to take the bullby the horns.

"Brrr! but it's cold this morning," he shivered blithely. "What sayyou? Let's go in. Come on." And without waiting for acquiescence, hecaught John McGuire's arm in his own and half pulled him to his feet.Before John McGuire knew then quite what was happening, he foundhimself in the