Suzanna Stirs the Fire | Page 4

into her mood.
Oh, to be big, grown up! All these brightly winged thoughts uplifting
her, some of which puzzled her, some that frightened her, she would

quite understand then! In those far-off years of absolute knowledge
there would be no limitations; no commonplaces, only miracles. You
could make what you wished then of all your days.
She came at last upon a little house lying far back from the road. It was
like a toy house, and had stood open for years. The Procter children had
often played in the rooms of the small house, and once when Peter was
a baby he had fallen down the stairs, and his twin Helen, anguished
because he was hurt, had cried piteously until they were home again.
Now Suzanna opened the gate, mended, she noticed, and hanging
straight, and started down the garden path. Lovely old-fashioned
flowers--pansies and phlox and pinks and balsam were all in their
happiest bloom. Suzanna wondered who watered and tended them. As
she lingered beside a pansy bed, the door of the little house opened and
a rather frail little old lady came out, followed by a maid who carried a
chair that was filled with pillows. She set the chair under a tree midway
in the garden between the house and the road. The old lady sank into it
and the maid deftly covered her with a large woolen shawl; then saying
some word, and placing a small silver bell on the grass within easy
reach of the lady in the chair the maid left.
Suzanna stood, unable to run. Someone then had moved into the tiny
house. And who? Suzanna knew everyone in the village of Anchorville,
and the old lady was a stranger. Suzanna gave up the question and
started back toward the gate when the old lady suddenly turned and saw
the child.
[Illustration: The prettiest old lady she had ever seen]
"Come here," she called, and Suzanna perforce obeyed. When she
stood near the small figure in the chair she waited, while she decided
that this was quite the prettiest old lady she had ever seen. The wavy
silver hair lying under a white lace cap, with two little curls falling on
either side made the blue eyes seems like a very little baby's at the stage
when they're deciding just what color they shall be. Like Suzanna, the
lady was dressed in white, flowing as to skirt, and trimmed with
quantities of fine old lace. On her hand was one ring, a lovely

moonstone. Suzanna at once loved that ring, not because it was a piece
of jewelry, but because it did look like a stray moonbeam that the rain
had fallen on.
"And who may you be?" asked the old lady at once.
Now something about her hostess called out all of Suzanna's colorful
imagination. She felt an instant response to this personality.
"I am a princess, the Princess Cecilia," she answered promptly.
"Ah," the old lady straightened up and a sudden, vivid change became
at once manifest in her manner. "Draw closer to me."
Suzanna obeyed, moving till she touched the old lady's hand that rested
on the wings of the old-fashioned chair.
"You should be a princess," said the old lady, "for I am a queen!"
Suzanna gazed without at first speaking. "A real one?" she whispered at
last.
"A real queen," returned the old lady. "It's not generally known by
those who serve me, nor even suspected by my own son who lives
yonder in the big house on the hill. But I'm the real queen of Spain,
deposed from the hearts of her people, from the hearts of her own
nearest."
Suzanna nodded. She looked over toward the hill. "That's Bartlett
Villa," she said; "the people only live there part of the year. I know Mrs.
Bartlett, she's the richest lady in Anchorville, but I didn't know her
mother was a queen."
The old lady didn't appear to be particularly interested. She went on:
"It's not generally known, I believe, that I am a queen." After another
pause: "Over yonder is a camp chair. Bring it hither."
Suzanna found the chair at one end of the garden. Quickly she brought
it and sank herself upon it gracefully as became a princess of the blood,

but she was surprised a moment later to meet reproval in the eyes of the
queen.
"It's not permissible to seat yourself in the presence of royalty," said the
queen, rather sternly.
"But, I, too, am royalty and you told me to get the chair," said Suzanna.
"Of course, I thought it was to sit on."
"You are merely a princess," returned the old lady. "I am your queen,
and you must await my permission to recline."
Suzanna rose.
"Ask permission," said the queen,