Suzanna Stirs the Fire | Page 4

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, "and perhaps I shall allow you to seat yourself."
"May I sit down?" asked Suzanna.
The queen inclined her head graciously. "You may," she returned. So once more the little visitor resumed her seat. Then for a long time the old lady sat with folded hands and looking off into the distance. She was very, very still. Only the lace on her bosom moved gently to show that she breathed. Suzanna thought perhaps she had better go. But she feared to rise lest she again meet with reproof.
At last the queen remembered her guest.
"I wish to traverse my garden and in the absence of my lady-in-waiting I request your arm, Princess Cecilia," she said.
Suzanna rose quickly and bending her small arm, she offered its support to the old lady, who though