Suzanna Stirs the Fire | Page 2

Maizie. "You mustn't say anything to me,
Maizie, unless I ask you a question," she commanded, "because I'm a
princess who lives in a crystal palace in a wonderful country with
oceans and mountains."
Maizie did not reply; what could she say? Simply she stared as Suzanna
moved gracefully about the room with the slow movements she
considered fitting a princess.
At last she returned to the bed. She began: "Maizie, I wish you to rise,
dress thyself, then go into thy parents' room and if the baby is awake,
dress him as Suzanna, thy sister, did when she was here and not a
princess."
Maizie rose and obediently dressed herself, ever watchful of Suzanna
and thrilled by the new personality which seemed to have entered with
the princess. When she was quite dressed, even to her little enshrouding
gingham apron, she asked:
"Are you going to school today, Suzanna?"
Suzanna fixed her eyes in the distance.
"I'm here, Princess," corrected Maizie, "right in front of you. You can
touch me with your hand. And besides, I had to ask that question. It
was burning on my tongue."
Suzanna did not stir. At last: "I'm not going to school today," she half
chanted. "A princess does not go to school. She wanders through the
fields and over the mountains and when she returns to her palace she
eats roses smothered in cream."
"Oh," cried Maizie. "Rose petals are bitter and beside we only have
cream on Sundays."

Suzanna turned away. Sometimes she found it a trifle difficult to play
with Maizie. She went slowly, majestically down the stairs and into the
little parlor. She regretted she had no train, since she might switch it
about as she walked. But she could think she had a train, and ever and
anon glance behind to see that it had not curled up.
In the parlor she stood and looked about her. Her physical eyes saw the
worn spots in the carpet, the picture of her father's mother, faded and
dim, her own "crayon," the old horsehair sofa and chair, and the piano
with its yellow keys and its scratched case. But with her inner eyes she
beheld a lovely rose-colored room, heaped with soft rugs and
satin-lined chairs; fine, soft-grained woods, and a harp studded with
rare jewels.
At first she stood alone. Then by a slight wave of her hand she
commanded the appearance of many ladies and gentlemen who came
and bowed low before her. While she was still living in her vision, her
father descended the stairs and entered the parlor. He started at sight of
Suzanna all dressed in her best.
"I'm a princess, father," said Suzanna.
"A princess?" he repeated.
Her father wore his store clothes, shiny and grown tight for him. Above
his winged collar his sensitive face showed pale and thin in the early
morning light. His eyes, brown, soft, were like Suzanna's--they had
vision. He smiled now, half whimsically and wholly lovingly at her.
"An eight-year-old princess," he said. Then the smile faded, and he half
turned to the door. "Well, that's all right, your Majesty," he said.
"Continue with your play. I'm going up into the attic just for ten
minutes."
"You'll be late for the store, won't you, daddy?" she asked, anxiously,
forgetting for the moment her rôle.
He turned upon her quickly. "Late for the store!" he cried, "late to

weigh nails, sell wash boards, and mops. What does that matter, my
dear, when by my invention the world will some day be better."
Suddenly the passion died from his voice. He stood again the tall
shabby figure, somewhat stooped, with long fine hands that moved
restlessly. "Ah, well, Suzanna," he went on, "weighing nails brings us
our livelihood."
Suzanna went and stood close to him. She put her small hand out and
touched his arm. "Daddy," she said, earnestly, "this is my tucked-in day.
I'm going to have two of them. Perhaps you can have a tucked-in day
sometime when you can work for hours at your invention."
Again he smiled at her. "Where did you get your tucked-in day,
Suzanna," he asked.
"Why, it's a great beautiful white space that comes between last week
and this. It's all empty, that big space, and so I have filled it in with a
day of my own. If mother will let me, I'm going to have two tucked-in
days. On the first I'm a princess, and on the second, I shall be an Only
Child."
"Very well, little girl," said Suzanna's father. "And now I hear others
moving about upstairs. Will you stay to breakfast with us, Princess?"
"Oh, yes," said Suzanna, who began to feel the healthy pangs of hunger.
"I suppose perhaps I had better set the table."
A half-hour later