CHAPTER XXXI
WHAT SUSAN DID NOT SEE
There was apparently no limit to Daniel Burton's enthusiasticcooperation with Dorothy Parkman on the matter of establishing aworkroom for the blind. He set to work with her at once. The very nextmorning after her initial visit, he went with her to Mazie Sanborn'sfather, and together they formulated the first necessary plans.
Thomas Sanborn was generous, and cordially enthusiastic, though hiswords and manner carried the crisp terseness of the busy man whosetime is money. At the end of five minutes he summoned one David Patchto the office, and introduced him to Miss Dorothy and Daniel Burton asone of his most expert engineers.
"And now I'll turn the whole thing over to you," he declared briskly,with his finger already on the button that would summon hisstenographer for dictation. "Just step into that room there and stayas long as you like. Whatever Patch says I'll back up. You'll find himthoroughly capable and trustworthy. And now good luck to you," hefinished, throwing wide the door of the adjoining room.
The next moment Miss Dorothy and Daniel Burton found themselves alonewith the keen-eyed, alert little man who had been introduced as DavidPatch. And David Patch did, indeed, appear to be very capable. Heevidently understood his business, and he gave interested attention toMiss Dorothy's story of what she had seen, and of what she wished nowto try to do. He took them then for a tour of the great shop,especially to the department where the busy fingers were winding withtape the thousands of wire coils.
Miss Dorothy's eyes sparkled with excitement, and she fairly clappedher hands in her delight, while Daniel Burton said that even he couldsee the possibilities of that kind of work for their purpose.
At the end of a long hour of talking and planning, Miss Dorothy andDaniel Burton started for home. But even then Daniel Burton had yetmore to say, for at his gate, which was on Miss Dorothy's way home, hebegged her to come in for a moment.
"I had another letter to-day about a blind soldier--this time fromBaltimore. I want to show it to you. You see, so many write to me, onaccount of my own boy. You will come in, just a minute?"
"Why, yes, of course I--will." The pause, and the half-stifled wordthat finished the sentence came as the tall figure of Keith Burtonturned the corner of the piazza and walked toward the steps.
"Hullo! Dad?" Keith's voice was questioning.
"Yes; and--"
"And Dorothy Parkman," broke in the girl with a haste so precipitateas to make her almost choke.
"Miss Parkman?" Once again, for a moment, Keith's face lighted as witha flame. "Come up. Come around on the south side," he cried eagerly."I've been sunning myself there. You'd think it was May instead ofMarch."
"No, she can't go and sun herself with you," interposed Daniel Burtonwith mock severity. "She's coming with me into the house. I want toshow her something."
"Well, I--I like that," retorted the youth. He spoke jauntily, andgave a short little laugh. But the light had died from his face and aslow red had crept to his forehead.
"Well, she can't. She's coming with me," reiterated the man. "Now runback to your sun bath. If you're good maybe we'll be out pretty soon,"he laughed back at his son, as he opened the house door for his guest."That's right--you didn't want him to know, yet, did you?" he added,looking a bit anxiously into the girl's somewhat flushed face as heclosed the hall door.
"Quite right. No, I don't want him to know yet. There's so much to bedone to get started, and he'd want to help. And he couldn't help aboutthat part; and't would only fret him and make him unhappy."
"My idea exactly," nodded the man. "When we get the room, and thegoods there, we'll want to tell him then."
"Of course, you'll tell him then," cried the girl.
"Yes, indeed, of course we will!" exclaimed the man, very evidentlynot noticing the change in the pronoun. "Now, if you'll wait a minuteI'll get that letter, then we'll go out to Keith on the piazza."
It was a short letter, and one quickly read; and very soon they wereout on the piazza again. But Miss Dorothy said "No, no!" very hastilywhen he urged her to go around on the other side; and she added, "Ireally must go home now," as she hurried down the steps. Daniel Burtonwent then around the corner of the piazza to explain her absence tohis son Keith. But he need not have hurried. His son Keith was notthere.
For all the good progress that was made on that first day, thingsseemed to move a bit slowly after that. To begin with, the matter ofselecting a suitable room gave no little difficulty. The right room inthe right location seemed not to be had; and Daniel Burton evensuggested that they use some room in his own house. But after a littlethought he gave up this idea as being neither practical nor desirable.
Meanwhile he was in daily communication with Dorothy Parkman, and thetwo spent hours together, thrashing out the different problems one byone as they arose, sometimes at her home, more frequently at his; for"home" to Dorothy in Hinsdale meant the Sanborn house, where Mazie wasalways in evidence--and Daniel Burton did not care for Mazie.Especially he did not care for her advice and assistance on theproblems that were puzzling him now.
To be sure, at his own home there was Keith; but he contrived to avoidKeith on most occasions. Besides, Keith himself seemed quite inclinedto keep out of the way (particularly if he heard the voice of DorothyParkman), which did not disturb Daniel Burton in the least, under thecircumstances. Until they got ready to tell Keith, he was rather gladthat he did keep so conveniently out of the way. And as Dorothy seemedalways glad to avoid seeing Keith or talking to him, there was reallyvery little trouble on that score; and they could have theirconsultations in peace and quietness.
And there were so many of them--those consultations! When at last theroom was found, there were the furnishings to select, and the finalplans to be made for the real work to be done. David Patch provedhimself to be invaluable then. As if by magic a long table appeared,and the coils and the tape, and all the various paraphernalia of aproperly equipped winding-room marched smoothly into place. Meanwhilethree soldiers and one civilian stood ready and eager to be taught,needing only the word of command to begin.
"And now we'll tell Keith," said Daniel Burton.
"Yes; now you must tell Keith," said Miss Dorothy.
"To-morrow at nine."
"To-morrow at nine," bowed Miss Dorothy.
"I'll bring him down and we'll show him."
"And I do so hope he'll like it."
"Of course, he'll like it!" cried Daniel Burton. "You wait and see."
But she did not see. She was not there to see.
Promptly at nine o'clock Daniel Burton appeared at the winding-roomwith Keith. But Dorothy Parkman was nowhere in sight. He waited ten,fifteen minutes; then he told Keith the story of the room, and of whatthey hoped to do there, fuming meanwhile within himself because he hadto tell it alone.
But it was not lack of interest that kept Miss Dorothy away. It couldnot have been; for that very afternoon she sought Daniel Burton outand asked eagerly what his son had said, and how he had taken it. Andher eyes shone and her breath quickened at the story Daniel Burtontold; and so eager was she to know every little word that had fallenfrom Keith's lips that she kept Daniel Burton repeating over and overeach minute detail.
Yet the next day when Keith and four other blind youths began work inearnest, she never once went near Keith's chair, though she went oftento the others, dropping here and there a word of encouragement or atouch of aiding fingers. When night came, however, and she found anopportunity for a few words alone with Daniel Burton, she told himthat, in her opinion, Keith had done the best work of the five, andthat it was perfectly marvelous the way he was taking hold. And againher eyes sparkled and her breath quickened; and she spent the entireten minutes talking about Keith to his father. Yet the next day, whenthe work began again, she still went to the back of every chair butKeith's.
Things happened very rapidly after that. It was not a week before thefirst long table in the big room was filled with eager workers, andthe second one h
ad to be added to take care of the newcomers.
The project was already the talk of the town, and not the leastexcited and interested of the observers was John McGuire's mother.When the news came of the second table's being added to the equipmentof the place, she hurried over to Susan's kitchen without delay--thoughwith the latest poem of her son's as the ostensible excuse.
"It's 'The Stumbling-Block,'" she announced. "He just got it doneyesterday, an' I copied it for you. I think it's the best yet," shebeamed, handing over a folded paper. "It's kind of long, so don't stopto read it now. Say, is it true? Have they had to put in another tableat that blind windin'-room?"
"They have."
"Well, if that ain't the greatest! I think it's just grand. They tookmy John down there to see the place yesterday. Do you know? That boyis a different bein' since his book an' his writin'. An' he's learnin'to do such a lot 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," murmuredSusan.
"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."