Dawn

  CHAPTER XVIII

  "MISS STEWART"

  It was just after Christmas that another letter came from Keith. Itwas addressed as usual to Susan. Keith had explained in his secondletter that he was always going to write to Susan, so that she mightread it to his father, thus saving him the disagreeableness of seeinghow crooked and uneven some of his lines were. His father hadremonstrated--feebly; but Keith still wrote to Susan.

  Keith had been improving in his writing very rapidly, however, sincethose earliest letters, and most of his letters now were models ofeven lines and carefully formed characters. But this letter Susan sawat once was very different. It bore unmistakable marks of haste,agitation, and lack of care. It began abruptly, after the briefest ofsalutations:

  Why didn't you tell me you knew Miss Stewart? She says she knows youreal well, and father, too, and that she's been to the house lots oftimes, and that she's going back to Hinsdale next week, and that sheis going to school there this year, and will graduate in June.

  Oh, she didn't tell me all this at once, you bet your sweet life. Ihad to worm it out of her little by little. But what I want to knowis, why you folks didn't tell me anything about it--that you knew her,and all that? But you never said a word--not a word. Neither you nordad. But she says she knows dad real well. Funny dad never mentionedit!

  Miss Stewart sure is a peach of a girl all right and the best ever tome. She's always hunting up new games for me to play. She's taught metwo this time, and she's read two books to me. There's a new fellowhere named Henty, and we play a lot together. I am well, and gettingalong all right. Guess that's all for this time. Love to all. KEITHP.S. Now don't forget to tell me why you never said a thing that youknew Miss Stewart. K.

  "Well, now I guess the kettle is in the fire, all right!" ejaculatedSusan, folding the letter with hands that shook a little.

  "What do you mean?" asked Daniel Burton.

  "Why, about that girl, of course. He'll find out now she's DorothyParkman. He can't help findin' it out!" "Well, what if he does?"demanded the man, a bit impatiently.

  "'What if he does?'" repeated Susan, with lofty scorn. "I guess you'llfind what 'tis when that boy does find out she's Dorothy Parkman, an'then won't have nothin' more to do with her, nor her father, nor herfather's new doctor, nor anything that is hers."

  "Nonsense, Susan, don't be silly," snapped the man, still moreirritably. "'Nor her father, nor her father's new doctor, nor anythingthat is hers,' indeed! You sound for all the world as if you werechanting a catechism! What's the matter? Doesn't the boy like MissDorothy?"

  "Why, Daniel Burton, you know he don't! I told you long ago all aboutit, when I explained how we'd got to give her father a resumed name,so Keith wouldn't know, an'--"

  "Oh, THAT! What she said about not wanting to see blind people?Nonsense, Susan, that was years ago, when they were children! Why,Keith's a man, nearly. You're forgetting--he'll be eighteen next June,Susan."

  "That's all right, Mr. Burton." Susan's lips snapped together grimlyand her chin assumed its most defiant tilt. "I ain't sayin' he ain't.But there's some cases where age don't make a mite of difference, an'you'll find this is one of 'em. You mark my words, Daniel Burton. Ihave seen jest as big fools at eighteen, an' eighty, for that matter,as I have at eight. 'T ain't a matter of decree at all. Keith Burtongot it into his head when he was first goin' blind that DorothyParkman would hate to look at him if ever he did get blind; an' hejust vowed an' determined that if ever he did get that way, sheshouldn't see him. Well, now he's blind. An' if you think he's forgotwhat Dorothy Parkman said, you'd oughter been with me when she came tosee him with Mazie Sanborn one day, or even when they just called upto him on the piazza one mornin'."

  "Well, well, very likely," conceded the man irritably; "but I stillmust remind you, Susan, that all this was some time ago. Keith's gotmore sense now." "Maybe--an' then again maybe not. However, we'llsee--what we will see," she mumbled, as she left the room with a littledefiant toss of her head.

  Susan did not answer Keith's letter at once. Just how she was going toanswer that particular question concerning their acquaintance with"Miss Stewart" she did not know, nor could she get any assistance fromDaniel Burton on the subject.

  "Why, tell him the truth, of course," was all that Daniel Burton wouldanswer, with a shrug, in reply to her urgent appeals for aid in thematter. This, Susan, in utter horror, refused to do.

  "But surely you don't expect to keep it secret forever who she is, doyou?" demanded Daniel Burton scornfully one day.

  "Of course I don't. But I'm going to keep it jest as long as I can,"avowed Susan doggedly. "An' maybe I can keep it--till he gets hisblessed eyes back. I shan't care if he does find out then."

  "I don't think--we'll any of us--mind anything then, Susan," said theman softly, a little brokenly. And Susan, looking into his face,turned away suddenly, to hide her own.

  That evening Susan heard that Dorothy Parkman was expected to arrivein Hinsdale in two days.

  "I'll jest wait, then, an' intervene the young lady my own self," shemused, as she walked home from the post-office. "This tryin' to settleDorothy Parkman's affairs without Dorothy Parkman is like havin'omelet with omelet left out," she finished, nodding to herself all inthe dark, as she turned in at the Burton gateway.

  Dorothy Parkman came two days later. As was usual now she came at onceto the house. Susan on the watch, met her at the door, before shecould touch the bell.

  "Come in, come in! My, but I'm glad to see you!" exclaimed Susanfervently, fairly pulling her visitor into the house. "Now tell meeverything----every single thing."

  "Why, there isn't much to tell, Susan. Mr. Keith is about the same,and--"

  "No, no, I mean--about YOU" interrupted Susan, motioning the girl to achair, and drawing her own chair nearer. "About your bein' in Hinsdalean' knowin' us, an' all that, an' his finding it out."

  "Oh, THAT!" The color flew instantly into Miss Dorothy's cheeks. "Thenhe's--he's written you?"

  "Written us! I should say he had! An' he wants to know why we hain'ttold him we know you. An', lan' sakes, Miss Dorothy, what can we tellhim?"

  "I--I don't know, Susan."

  "But how'd you get in such a mess? How'd he find out to begin with?"demanded the woman.

  Miss Dorothy drew a long sigh. "Oh, it was my fault, of course.I--forgot. Still, it's a wonder I hadn't forgotten before. You see,inadvertently, I happened to drop a word about Mr. Burton. 'Do youknow my dad?' he burst out. Then he asked another and anotherquestion. Of course, I saw right away that I must turn it off as if Isupposed he'd known it all the time. It wouldn't do to make a secretof it and act embarrassed because he'd found it out, for of coursethen he'd suspect something wrong right away."

  "Yes, yes, I s'pose so," admitted Susan worriedly. "But, lan' sakes,look at us! What are we goin' to say? Now he wants to know why wehain't told him about knowin' you."

  "I don't know, Susan, I don't know." The girl shook her head andcaught her breath a bit convulsively. "Of course, when I first let itgo that I was 'Miss Stewart,' I never realized where it was going tolead, nor how--how hard it might be to keep it up. I've been expectingevery day he'd find out, from some one there. But he hasn't--yet. Ofcourse, Aunt Hattie, who keeps house for father, is in the secret, andSHE'D never give it away. Most of the patients don't know much aboutme, anyway. You see, I've never been there much. They just knowvaguely of 'the doctor's daughter,' and they just naturally call her'Miss Stewart.'"

  "Yes, yes, I see, I see," nodded Susan, again still worriedly. "Butwhat I'm thinkin' of is US, Miss Dorothy. How are we goin' to get'round not mentionin' you all this time, without his findin' out whoyou be an' demandin' a full exposition of the whole affair. Say, looka-here, would it be--be very bad if he DID find out you was DorothyParkman?"

  "I'm afraid--it would be, Susan." The girl spoke slowly, a bitunsteadily. She had gone a little white at the question.

  "Has he SAID anything?"


  "Nothing, only he-- When we were talking that day, and he was flingingout those questions one after another, about Hinsdale, and what I knewof it, he--he asked if I knew Dorothy Parkman."

  "Miss Dorothy, he didn't!"

  "But he did. It was awful, Susan. I felt like--like--"

  "Of course you did," interposed Susan, her face all sympathy,"a-sailin' under false premises like that, an' when you were perfectlyinnocuous, too, of any sinfulness, an' was jest doing it for his bestgood an' peace of mind. Lan' sakes, what a prediction to be in! WhatDID you say?"

  "Why, I said yes, of course. I had to say yes. And I tried to turn itoff right away, and not talk any more about it. But that was easy,anyway, for--for Mr. Keith himself dropped it. But I knew, by the wayhe looked, and said 'yes, I know her, too,' in that quiet, stern wayof his, that--that I'd better not let him find out I was she--not if Iwanted to--to stay in the room," she finished, laughing a littlehysterically.

  "Lan' sakes, you don't say!" frowned Susan.

  "Yes; and so that's what makes me know that whatever you do, youmustn't let him know that I am Dorothy Parkman," cried the girlfeverishly; "not now--not until he's seen the Paris doctor, forthere's no knowing what he'd do. He'd be so angry, you see. He'd neverforgive me, for on top of all the rest is the deceit--that I've beenwith him all these different times, and let him call me 'MissStewart.'"

  "But how can we do that?" demanded Susan.

  "Why, just turn it off lightly. Say, of course, you know me; and seemsurprised that you never happened to mention it before. Tell him, oh,yes, I come quite often to tell you and Mr. Burton how he's gettingalong, and all that. Just make nothing of it--take it as a matter ofcourse, not worth mentioning. See? Then go on and talk about somethingelse. That'll fix it all right, I'm sure, Susan."

  "Hm-m; maybe so, an' then again maybe not," observed Susan, withfrowning doubt. "As I was tellin' Mr. Burton this mornin' we've got tobe 'specially careful about Keith jest now. It's the mosthypercritical time there can be--with him waitin' to see that bigdoctor, an' all--an' he mustn't be upset, no matter what happens, norhow many white lies we have to prognosticate here at home."

  "I guess that's so, Susan." Miss Dorothy's eyes were twinkling now."And, by the way, where is Mr. Burton? I haven't seen him yet."

  "He ain't here."

  "You don't mean he has gone out of town?" The girl had looked up insurprise at the crisp terseness of Susan's reply.

  "Oh, no, he's--in Hinsdale."

  "Painting any new pictures these days?" Miss Dorothy was on her feetto go. She asked the question plainly not for information, but to fillthe embarrassing pause that Susan's second reply had brought to theconversation.

  "No, he ain't," spoke up Susan with a vehemence as disconcerting as itwas sudden. "He ain't paintin' nothin', an' he ain't drawin' nothin'neither--only molasses an' vinegar an' kerosene. He's clerkin' down toMcGuire's grocery store, if you want to know. That's where he is."

  "Why--SUSAN!"

  "Yes, I know. You don't have to say nothin', Miss Dorothy. Besides, Iwouldn't let you say it if you did. I won't let nobody say it but me.But I will say this much. When folks has set one foot in the cemetery,an' a lame one at that, an' can't see nor hear nor think straight, Idon't think it's no hilarious offense to wish they'd hurry up an' getto where they could have all them handy facilities back again, an'leave their money to folks what has got their full complaint ofsenses, ready to enjoy life, if they get a chance. Oh, yes, I know youdon't know what I'm talkin' about, an' perhaps it's jest as well youdon't, Miss Dorothy. I hadn't oughter said it, anyhow. Well, I s'poseI've got to go write that letter to Keith now. Seein' as how you'vecome I can't put it off no longer. Goodness only knows, though, whatI'm goin' to say," she sighed, as her visitor nodded back awistful-eyed good-bye.