The children, thus cordially invited, trooped in. "Is Drusilla sad today?" asked Suzanna.

"Well, she's thinking of the past," said the maid. "All day she's been talking of her early home across the ocean, talking of the familiar places of her childhood. She insisted even upon my preparing brouse for her luncheon."

"_Brouse?_" The children were interested. They wanted to know what brouse was. The maid smiled.

"Why brouse is just bread broken up into a bowl with hot water poured over it and lots of b.u.t.ter and salt and pepper added. One day when Mrs.

Bartlett was a little girl, her mother took her to the home of an old nurse, and there she had brouse to eat, and afterwards for one joyful hour she was allowed to wear the clogs belonging to the nurse's little granddaughter."

"I know what clogs are," said Graham. "They're wooden shoes that make a lot of noise and have bra.s.s nails in them." He had looked into the sitting room and was interested in an object there. "What's that?" he asked. "Can't my grandmother walk?"

The maid's eyes followed his finger. "That's a wheel chair," she said.

"Your grandmother is not so strong as she was in the summer, so I take her out in the chair when the day is bright. Well, children, go upstairs quietly. Suzanna knows the way to Mrs. Bartlett's room."

So the children on tiptoes mounted the thickly carpeted stairs. At the top Suzanna waited for the others, then went down the hall, paused and knocked softly on the panel to the right, and at the soft invitation to enter, pushed open wide the door.

Drusilla sat within, her chair drawn close to the window. Her hands were lying listlessly in her lap. She looked wilted, a flower fading to its end. She turned to the children and smiled, a very small wistful smile, but it lit her pale delicate face and made Daphne advance confidentially to the middle of the room.

"We came to see you," she said in her winsome way.

"I'm very glad," said Drusilla. "Won't you all come close to me?"

The children obeyed. Drusilla looked inquiringly at Graham, and then said, "Well, my boy, you've grown somewhat."

"Yes, two inches in six months." He wanted to say something to lift the sadness from her face, and at last he blurted out: "I think you're a bully grandmother, and I'm coming often to see you."

"Ah, then I'll tell you fine tales of your father when he was a lad of your age," she answered, well pleased. She put out her white hand and laid it on his head.

And at the touch there grew in Graham's young soul a wish to defend this dear old lady, this grandmother. He wanted to fight for her, to do something great for her. He had visions of himself, a man, wearing her colors. All his deepest chivalry was aroused. He looked longingly into her face, and with loving sagacity she read his desire.

"My dear," she said, "I wish you would do something for me."

"Oh, grandmother, what would you like me to do?" he cried.

"The day is so beautiful," she answered. "I've had my windows open and I know. Would you be my knight and wheel me out?"

"Grandmother, will you let me do that?" His voice rose. "I'll wheel you down the wide road out into the country." He straightened his shoulders, pride filled his heart. His grandmother trusted her frail body to his care!

"Well and good, my boy," she answered. And then to Suzanna: "Will you tell Letty to get my cape and bonnet. My grandson would take me riding."

Letty, answering Suzanna's call, came at once. She found a very cheerful mistress and an excited little group of children. She hesitated a moment when Graham told her he meant to take his grandmother out for a ride.

But noting the earnestness of the boy's manner she made no spoken objections, but she went to the clothes press and took down Drusilla's "dolman" and small close fitting bonnet.

"Be very careful of your grandmother," said the maid, as she dressed Mrs. Bartlett and then offered her arm to steady the slight figure down the stairs.

"I shall be very careful," promised Graham. Never once in his young life had any real service been asked of him. He was experiencing for the first time a sense of responsibility and he grew beneath it.

Downstairs Letty guided the rubber-tired wheel chair out into the hall, down the front steps. She returned for Drusilla and seating her in the chair, tucked a soft velvet rug about her.

Graham took his place at the long handled bar. Gently he pushed the chair and the small cavalcade was on its way.

At first each child was quiet. Graham, ever mindful of the charge which was his, was very serious and his thoughts turned to his mother.

He wished she had taken this grandmother right into her own home to be watched over, loved and cared for tenderly. He wondered if his father, his ever busy father, would have liked that. Oh, why was it considered better for a grandmother, one who had fancies, to live alone in a small house, with every comfort it is true, but with no one of her very own close beside her!

He looked over at Suzanna. She was walking close to Drusilla, and talking earnestly as was her way. Suzanna never went out into the world but some object started a train of thought of keen interest. He could hear s.n.a.t.c.hes of her talk. It was about the trees, stripped bare now, and their mood sad probably because of their denudement. Suzanna gazed with concern at their stark limbs stretching out, no longer able to shelter people or to sing softly when the wind blew through their leaves.

Drusilla contributed her share, too. She thought the trees knew that people did not need shelter from the hot sun when the snow was about to fly. And the snow could lie in such beautiful, straight lines on long, unleaved limbs.

And so they pa.s.sed on from subject to subject, while Graham listened.

And then little Daphne grew tired and began to lag. Graham seeing the child and about to make some suggestion for her comfort, was distracted by Peter's call. The boy had found a rabbit hole and wished he had Jerry with him to reach the rabbit, for which cruel wish both Suzanna and Maizie scolded him roundly. And he gazed at them with the same old perplexed gaze. Were these not the same sisters who looked complacently on while a homeless, helpless dog was turned out casually into an inhuman world?

Well, again he gave up the puzzle of their contrary att.i.tudes. Perhaps understanding would come in the big-grown-up years.

But when they returned from examining the rabbit hole, they found little Daphne had curled herself up at Drusilla's feet. Drusilla had moved a little and the child hopping up on the foot-rest had put her small arms on Drusilla's knee, dropped her head and gone to sleep. Suzanna carefully covered her with part of the velvet rug.

So they started away again and came at last to a little lonely church set back from the road. It was a quaint little edifice, made of irregular purplish stone. The moss had crept up on one side softly, protectingly. You thought at once it had been built by loving hands and that loving souls had worshiped in it. And you knew that under its a.s.sumed and momentary air of expectancy it was sad in having outlived its usefulness. Its door was swung open hospitably and the children stopped to look in. Graham wheeled his grandmother close to the door so she too could gaze within.

There were pews, empty, with worn cushions. A large stained gla.s.s window with one Figure, n.o.ble despite the artist's limitations, had caught lights and sent them down in long sapphire and amethyst fingers. A man moved about the altar, changing from place to place a vase of white roses.

"Is that the minister?" whispered Maizie.

Suzanna nodded. "Yes. He's going to offer up prayer, I think."

The minister turned and smiled at the children. He seemed some way to fit into the soft atmosphere of the place, seeming to belong there.

Suzanna could not fancy him moving in any merely practical environment.

And while the children lingered, and Drusilla looked in through the open church door, a man and a woman came down the road. The woman walked slowly and the man had his arm about her in a guarding kind of way.

When they neared the church they stopped. Suzanna, turning, recognized them and with a joyful cry she ran to meet them.

"Oh, Miss Ma.s.sey," she cried, "and Robert. Are you out for a walk, too?"

The man looked down at her. "Yes, little girl. We are going into that old church. Did you see the minister?"

"Yes, he's inside," said Suzanna. She looked at Miss Ma.s.sey. "You've been crying," she said.

Miss Ma.s.sey tried to speak calmly, but there was a little quiver in her voice. "Because it's all so different from what I dreamed."

"Come, dear," said Robert then, "come with me."

She seemed to take courage from his manliness and the truth of his love shining forth from his eyes, and so she put her hand into his and walked up the path with him.

At the door of the church they paused again. Suzanna who had followed quickly, said, "This is Drusilla, my very best friend."

Miss Ma.s.sey looked into the sweet old face. Perhaps she thought of her own mother, for the tears came quickly again. "I'm glad to know you,"

she said simply. And then asked, "Won't you come in and see me married?"

And Drusilla answered: "Indeed, I should like to very much, my dear."