Apron-Strings | Page 8

neglect a thing." Sue swayed a little, to the
clutch of a small hand dragging at her skirt.
"And as I've said before, I prefer that you'd take all of Mr. Farvel's
dictation in the library; I don't want you hanging about in the vestry
unless I'm with you.--Will you please pay attention to what I'm
saying?"--this with much patience.
Over one arm, folded, Sue carried a garment of ministerial black. This
she now unfolded and spread, the better to hide the boy crouching
closest at her back. "Oh, yes, mother dear," she admitted reassuringly.

"Yes."
"And what is that you have?" The tone might have been used to a child.
Hurriedly Sue doubled the black lengths. "It's--it's just a vestment," she
explained, embarrassed.
"Please." Mrs. Milo held out a white hand.
To go forward and lay the vestment in that hand meant to disclose the
presence of the hiding quartette. With quick forethought, Sue leaned far
forward in what might be mistaken for a bow, tipped her head gaily to
one side, and stretched an arm to proffer the offending garment. "Here,
motherkins! It's in need of mending."
Mrs. Milo tossed the vestment to the piano. "What has your work--your
accounts and statements and stenography--what have they to do with
the Rector's mending?" she demanded.
"Well, mother, I used to mend for the last minister."
"Oh, my daughter!" mourned Mrs. Milo.
"Ye-e-e-s, mother?"--fearful that the boys were at last discovered.
"Do you mean to say that you see no difference in mending for a single
man? a young man? an utter stranger?"
Sue heaved a sigh of relief. "Mother darling," she protested fondly;
"hardly a stranger."
"We'll not discuss it," said her mother gently; then taking a more
judicial attitude, "Now, I'll speak to those boys."
Long experience had shown Sue Milo that there were times when it
was best to put off the evil moment, since at any juncture something
quite unforeseen--such as an unexpected arrival--might solve her
difficulty. This was such an occasion. So with over-elaborate care, she
proceeded to outline the forthcoming program of the morning. "You

see, mother, we're to rehearse--choir and all. They'll march from the
library, right across here----" She indicated the route of procession.
But long experience had taught Mrs. Milo that procrastination often
robbed her of her best opportunities. She pointed a slender finger to the
carpet in front of her. "The boys," she said more firmly.
One by one, Sue brought them forward--Bobbie in the lead, then the
tow-headed boy; this to conceal the unfortunate state of Ikey and the
war-like Clarence. "Here they are, mother!" she announced gaily. "Here
are our fine little men!"
Neither cheerful air nor kindly adjective served to pacify Mrs. Milo's
anger at sight of the four intruders. Her nostrils swelled. "What are you
doing here?" she questioned, with a mildness contradicted by her look;
"--against my strict orders."
Bobbie, the ever-ready, strove to answer, swallowed, paled, choked,
and turned appealingly to Sue; while the remaining three, with upraised
eyes, beseeched her like dumb things.
"Absolutely necessary, mother," declared Sue. She gave each boy a
reassuring pat. "As I was saying, they march from the library,
preceding the bride----"
But Mrs. Milo was not listening. There was that still white figure in the
bay-window, observing the scene intently. She bestowed a pleasant nod
upon the quartette. "You may go now, boys," she said cooingly; "I'll
speak to you later."
Bobbie found his voice. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you!"--and took one long
step churchward. The tow-headed boy moved with him.
This left unshielded the erstwhile contesting twain. Mrs. Milo's look
seemed to fall upon them like a blow. "Oh! Oh!" she cried in horror,
pointing.
As one, Ikey and Clarence began rubbing tell-tale streaks from their

countenances with their rumpled cottas, and pressing down their
upstanding hair.
"No! No-o-o!" cried Mrs. Milo. "That photograph! What are you doing
with it?"
In sudden panic, Bobbie shifted the photograph from hand to hand;
tried to force it into the hands of the tow-headed boy, then bent to
consign it to the carpet.
Sue was beforehand. She caught the picture away from the small
trembling hand, and smiled upon her mother. "Oh--I--I was just going
to look at it," she explained. "Thank you, Bobbie.--Isn't it good of
father! So natural, and--and----"
Mrs. Milo was not deceived. "Give it to me," she said coldly. And as
Sue obeyed, "Now, go, boys. Dora, poor child, works so hard to keep
this drawing-room looking well. We can't have you disarrange it. Come!
Be prompt!"
Sue urged the four passageward. "They were just going, mother.--Don't
touch the woodwork; use the door knob."
And now, when it seemed that even Ikey and Clarence might escape
undetected, Mrs. Milo gave another cry. "Oh, what's the matter with
those two?"