Apron-Strings | Page 7

am a t'ree-card-monte man!"
"You're a three-card-what?"
Unable longer to restrain their mirth, that portion of the choir that was in the bay-window now whooped with delight. And Sue, turning, beheld ten figures writhing with joy.
"So!" she began severely. The ten sobered, and their cottas billowed in a backward step. "So here you are!--where you have no business to be!"
Bobbie, the spokesman, ventured to the rescue of his mates. "But, Momsey----"
"Now! No excuses! You all know that you do not come into this drawing-room, to track up the carpet--look at your feet! And to pull things about, like a lot of red Indians! And finger-print the mahogany! And, oh, how disappointed I am in you! To disobey!"
"But the minister----" piped up the tow-headed boy.
"That's right!" she retorted sarcastically. "Blame it on Mr. Farvel! As if you don't know the regulations!"
"But this is Mr. Farvel's house," urged Bobbie.
"A-a-ah!--Now that makes it worse! Now I know you've deliberately ignored my mother's wishes! And if she finds you out, and, oh, I hope she does, don't you come to me to save you from punishment? Depend upon it, I shan't lift my little finger to help you! No! Not if it's bread and water for a week! Not if you----"
A door slammed. From the library came the sound of quick steps. Then a voice was upraised: "Susan! Susan!"
The red paled in Sue's cheeks. "Oh!" She threw out both arms as if to sweep the entire choir to her. "Oh, my darlings!" she whispered hoarsely. "Oh! Oh, mother mustn't see you! Go! Hurry!" As they crowded to her, she thrust them backward, through the door to the passage. "Oh, quick! Bobbie! My dears!"
Eight were crammed into the shelter of the passage. Four pressed against their fellows but could not get across the sill in time. These Sue swept into a crouching line at her back--as the library door opened, and Mrs. Milo came panting into the room.
As mother and daughter faced each other, Hattie, seated quietly in the bay-window, smiled at the two--so amazingly unlike. It was as if an aristocratic, velvet-footed feline were bristling before a great, good-tempered St. Bernard. In a curious way, too, and in a startling degree, each woman subtracted sharply from the other. In the presence of Sue, Mrs. Milo's petiteness became weakness, her dainty trimness accentuated her helplessness, her delicate coloring looked ill-health; while Sue, by contrast, seemed over-high as to color, almost boisterous of voice, and careless in dress.
Mrs. Milo's look was all reproval. "Susan Milo," she began, "where have you been?"
Sue was standing very still--in order not to uncover a vestige of boy. She smiled, half wistfully, half mischievously. "Just--er--in the Church, mother." She had her own way of saying "mother." On her lips it was no mere title, lightly used. Her very prolonging of the "r" gave the word all the tender meanings--undivided love, and loyalty, protection, yet dependence. She spoke it like a caress.
Mrs. Milo recognized in her daughter's tone an apology for something. Quick suspicion took the place of reproval. "And what were you doing in the Church?"--with a rising inflection.
"Well, I--I was sort of--poking around."
"St!"--an exclamation of impatience. Then, "Churches are not made to poke in."
Now there came to Sue that look that suggested a little girl, and a naughty little girl at that. She turned on her mother a beguiling smile. "I--I was--er--poking in the vestry," she explained.
Mrs. Milo observed that the bay-window held a young person in white satin, who was sitting very still, and was all attention. She managed a faint returning smile, therefore, and assumed a playful tone. "The vestry is not a part of your duties as secretary," she reminded. "And there's so much to do, my daughter,--the decorations, the caterer, the----"
"I know, mother. I shan't 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