Dawn

by Eleanor H. Porter

  CHAPTER XIV

  A SURPRISE ALL AROUND

  The week before Christmas Dorothy Parkman brought a tall,dignified-looking man to the Burtons' shabby, but still beautiful,colonial doorway.

  Dorothy had not seen Keith, except on the street, since her visit withMazie in October. Two or three times the girls had gone to the housewith flowers or fruit, but Keith had stubbornly refused to see them,in spite of Susan's urgings. To-day Dorothy, with this evidently inmind, refused Susan's somewhat dubious invitation to come in.

  "Oh, no, thank you, I'll not come in," she smiled. "I only broughtfather, that's all. And--oh, I do hope he can do something," shefaltered unsteadily. And Susan saw that her eyes were glistening withtears as she turned away.

  In the hall Susan caught the doctor's arm nervously.

  "Dr. Parkman, there's somethin'--"

  "My name is Stewart," interrupted the doctor.

  "What's that? What's that?" cried Susan, unconsciously tightening herclasp on his arm. "Ain't you Dorothy Parkman's father?"

  "I'm her stepfather. She was nine when I married Mrs. Parkman, hermother."

  "Then your name ain't Parkman, at all! Oh, glory be!" ejaculated Susanecstatically. "Well, if that ain't the luckiest thing ever!"

  "Lucky?" frowned the doctor, looking thoroughly mystified, and notaltogether pleased.

  Susan gave an embarrassed laugh.

  "There, now, if that ain't jest like me, to fly off on a tandem likethat, without a word of exploitation. It's jest that I'm so glad Iwon't have to ask you to come under a resumed name."

  "Under a what, madam?" The doctor was looking positively angry now.Moreover, with no uncertain determination, he was trying to drawhimself away from Susan's detaining fingers.

  "Oh, please, doctor, please, don't be mad!" Susan had both hands holdof his arm now. "'Twas for Keith, an' I knew you'd be willin' to doanything for him, when you understood, jest as I am. You see, I didn'twant him to know you was Dorothy's father," she plunged onbreathlessly, "an' so I was goin' to ask you to let me call yousomethin' else--not Parkman. An' then, when I found that you didn'thave to have a resumed name, that you was already somebody else--thatis, that you was really you, only Keith wouldn't know you was you, Iwas so glad."

  "Oh, I see." The doctor was still frowning, though his lips weretwitching a little. "But--er--do you mind telling me why I can't be I?What's the matter with Dorothy's father?"

  "Nothin' sir. It's jest a notion. Keith won't see Dorothy, nor Mazie,nor none of 'em. He thinks they come jest to spy out how he looks an'acts; an' he got it into his head that if you was Dorothy's father, hewouldn't see you. He hates to be pitied an' stared at."

  "Oh, I see." A sympathetic understanding came into the doctor's eyes.The anger was all gone now. "Very well. As it happens I'm really Dr.Stewart. So you may call me that with all honesty, and we'll be verycareful not to let the boy know I ever heard of Dorothy Parkman. Howabout the boy's father? Does he--know?"

  "Yes, sir. I told him who you was, an' that you was comin'; an' I toldhim we wasn't goin' to let Keith know. An' he said 'twas absurd, an'we couldn't help lettin' him know. But I told him I knew better an''twas all right."

  "Oh, you did!" The doctor was regarding Susan with a new interest inhis eyes.

  "Yes, an' 'tis, you see."

  "Where is Mr. Burton?"

  "In his studio--shut up. He'll see you afterwards. I told him he'd GOTto do that."

  "Eh? What?" The doctor's eyes flew wide open.

  "See you afterwards. I told him he'd ought to be in the room with you,when you was examplin' Keith's eyes. But I knew he wouldn't do that.He never will do such-like things--makes him feel too bad. An' hewanted ME to find out what you said. But I told him HE'D got to dothat. But, oh, doctor, I do hope--oh, please, please say somethin'good if you can. An' now I'll take you in. It's right this way throughthe sittin'-room."

  "By Jove, what a beauty!" Halfway across the living-room the doctorhad come to a pause before the mahogany highboy.

  "THAT?"

  "Yes, 'that'!" The whimsical smile in the doctor's eyes showed that hewas not unappreciative of the scorn in Susan's voice. "By George, itIS a beauty! I've got one myself, but it doesn't compare with that,for a minute. H-m! And that's not the only treasure you have here, Isee," he finished, his admiring gaze roving about the room. "We've gotsome newer, better stuff in the parlor. These are awful old things inhere," apologized Susan.

  "Yes, I see they are--old things." The whimsical smile had come backto the doctor's eyes as he followed Susan through the doorway.

  "Keith's upstairs in his room, an' I'm takin' you up the back way so'sMr. Burton won't hear. He asked me to. He didn't want to know jestexactly when you was here."

  "Mr. Burton must be a brave man," commented the doctor dryly.

  "He ain't--not when it comes to seein' disagreeable things, or folkshurt," answered the literal Susan cheerfully. "But he'll see you allright, when it's over." Her lips came together with a sudden grimness.

  The next moment, throwing open Keith's door, her whole expressionchanged. She had eyes and thoughts but for the blind boy over by thewindow.

  The doctor, too, obviously, by the keen, professional alertness thattransfigured his face at that moment, had eyes and thoughts but forthat same blind boy over by the window.

  "Well, Keith, here's Dr. Stewart to see you boy."

  "Dr.--Stewart?" Keith was on his feet, startled, uncertain.

  "Yes, Dr. Stewart.'" Susan repeated the name with clear emphasis. "Hewas in town an' jest came up to look at you. He's a big, kind doctor,dear, an' you'll like him, I know." At the door Susan turned to thedoctor. "An' when--when you're done, sir, if you'll jest come downthem stairs to the kitchen, please--TO THE KITCHEN," she repeated,hurrying out before Keith could remonstrate.

  Down in the kitchen Susan took a pan of potatoes to peel--and when,long hours later, after the doctor had come downstairs, had talkedwith Mr. Burton, and had gone, Susan went to get those potatoes toboil for dinner, she found that all but two of them had been peeledand peeled and peeled, until there was nothing left but--peelings.

  Susan was peeling the next to the last potato when the doctor camedown to the kitchen.

  "Well?" She was on her feet instantly.

  The doctor's face was grave, yet his eyes were curiously alight. Theyseemed to be looking through and beyond Susan.

  "I don't know. I THINK I have good news, but I'm not--sure."

  "But there's a chance?"

  "Yes; but-" There was a moment's silence; then, with an indrawing ofhis breath, the doctor's soul seemed to come back from a long journey."I think I know what is the matter." The doctor was looking at Susan,now, not through her. "If it's what I think it is, it's a very raredisease, one we do not often find."

  "But could you--can you--is it possible to--to cure it?"

  "We can operate--yes; but it's six to half a dozen whether it'ssuccessful or not. They've just about broken even so far--the casesI've known about. But they've been interesting, most interesting." Thedoctor was far away again.

  "But there's a chance; and if there is a chance I'd want to take it,"cried Susan. "Wouldn't you?"

  There was no answer.

  Susan hesitated, threw a hurried glance into the doctor's preoccupiedface, then hurried on again feverishly.

  "Doctor, there's somethin' I've got to--to speak to you about beforeyou see Mr. Burton. It--it--it'll cost an awful lot, I s'pose."

  There was no answer.

  Susan cleared her throat.

  "It--it'll cost an awful lot, won't it, doctor?" she asked in a loudervoice.

  "Eh? What? Cost? Oh, yes, yes; it is an expensive operation." Thedoctor spoke unconcernedly. He merely glanced at Susan, then resumedhis fixed gaze into space.

  "Well, doctor." Susan cleared her throat again. This time she caughthold of the doctor's sleeve as if to pull him bodily back to arealizing sense of her presence. "About the money--we haven't got it.An' that's what I want
ed to speak to you about. Mr. Burton hain't gotany. He's already spent more'n he's got--part of next year's annual, Imean. Some day he'll have more--a whole lot more--when Mis' Holworthy,his third cousin, dies. 'Twas her husband that gave him the annual,you understand, an' when she dies it'll come to him in a plump sum.But 'tain't his now, an' 'course it won't be till she goes; an''course 'tain't for us to dodge her footsteps hopin' she'll jestnaturally stop walkin' some day--though I'm free to confess she haslost most all her facilities, bein' deaf an' lame an' some blind; an'I can't exactly see the harm in wishin' she had got 'em all back--inHeaven, I mean. But 'course I don't say so to him. An' as I saidbefore, we hain't got money now--not any.

  "An'--an' his last pictures didn't sell any better than the others,"she went on a little breathlessly. "Then there was me--that is, I WASgoin' to get some money; but--but, well MY pictures didn't sell,either." She paused to wet her lips. "But I've thought it all out, an'there's a way."

  "You--you'd have to have Keith with you, somewheres, wouldn't you?"

  "To operate? Oh, yes, yes."

  "A long time?"

  "Eh? What? Oh, yes, we would have to have him a long time, probably.In fact, time is one of the very biggest factors in such cases--forthe after-treatment, you know. And we must have him where we can watchhim, of course."

  "Oh! Then that's all right, then. I can manage it fine," sighed Susan,showing by the way her whole self relaxed how great had been thestrain. "Then I'll come right away to work for you."

  "To what?" The doctor suddenly came back to earth.

  "To work for you--in your kitchen, I mean," nodded Susan. "I'll sendMr. Burton to his sister's, then I'll come to you, an' I'll comeimpaired to stay till I've paid it up--every cent."

  "Good Heavens, woman!" ejaculated the man. "What are you talkingabout?"

  "Oh, please, please don't say that I can't," besought Susan, herfearful eyes on his perturbed face. "I'll work real well--truly Iwill. An' I'm a real good cook, honest I am, when I have asuper-abundance to do it with--butter, an' eggs, an' nice roasts. An' Iwon't bother you a mite with my poetry. I don't make it much now,anyhow. An'--oh, doctor, you've GOT to let me do it; it's the only waythere is to p-pay." Her voice choked into silence. Susan turned herback abruptly. Not even for Keith could Susan let any one see her cry.

  "Pay! And do you think you'd live long--" Just in time the doctorpulled himself up short. Thrusting his hands into his pockets he tooka nervous turn about the kitchen; then sharply he wheeled about. "Mydear woman, let us talk no more about the money question. See here, Ishall be glad to take that boy into my charge and take care of him forthe sheer love of it--indeed, I shall!"

  "Do you mean without ANY pay?" Susan had drawn herself up haughtily.

  "Yes. So far as money goes--it is of no consequence, anyway. I'm glad--"

  "Thank you, but we ain't charitable folks, Dr. Stewart," cut in Susancoldly. "Maybe it is infinitesimal to you whether we pay or not, but'tain't to us. We don't want--"

  "But I tell you it's pay enough just to do it," interrupted the doctorimpatiently. "It's a very rare case, and I'm glad--"

  A door banged open.

  "Susan, hasn't that doctor--" a new voice cut in, then stopped short.

  The doctor turned to see a pallid-faced, blond-bearded man withrumpled hair standing in the doorway.

  "Mr. Burton?" hazarded the doctor crisply.

  "Yes. And you-"

  "Dr. Stewart. And I'd like a little talk with you, please--if you cantalk sense." This last was added under his breath; but Daniel Burtonwas not listening, in any case. He was leading the way to the studio.

  In the studio the doctor did not wait for questions, but plunged atonce into his story.

  "Without going into technical terms, Mr. Burton, I will say that yourson has a very rare trouble. There is only one known relief, and thatis a certain very delicate operation. Even with that, the chances areabout fifty-fifty that he regains his sight."

  "But there's a chance?"

  "Yes, there's a chance. And, anyway, it won't do any harm to try. Itis the only thing possible, and, if it fails--well, he'll only beblind, as he is now. It must be done right away, however. Even now itmay be too late. And I may as well tell you, if it DOESN'T fail--thereis a strong probability of another long period of treatment and asecond operation, before there's a chance of ultimate success!"

  "Could--could that time be spent here?" Daniel Burton's lips had growna little white.

  "No. I should want the boy where I could see him frequently--with me,in fact. And that brings me to what I was going to propose. With yourpermission I will take the boy back with me next week to Chicago, andoperate at once. And let me say that from sheer interest in the case Ishall be glad to do this entirely without cost to you."

  "Thank you; but of course you must understand that I could not allowthat for a moment." A painful color had flamed into Daniel Burton'sface.

  "Nonsense! Don't be foolish, man. I tell you I'm glad to do it. It'llbe worth it to me--the rarity of the case--"

  "How much--would it cost?" interposed Daniel Burton peremptorily, withan unsteadiness of voice that the doctor did not fail to read aright.

  "Why, man, alive, it would cost--" With his eyes on Daniel Burton'ssternly controlled face, the doctor came to an abrupt pause. Then,turning, he began to tramp up and down the room angrily. "Oh, hang itall, man, why can't you be sensible? I tell you I don't want any--"Once again his tongue stopped. His feet, also, had come to an abruptpause. He was standing before an old colonial mirror. Then suddenly hewheeled about. "By Jove, there IS something I want. If you'll sell metwo or three of these treasures of yours here, you will be more thancancelling your debt, and--"

  "Thank you," interrupted the other coldly, but with a still deeper redstaining his face. "As I happen to know of the unsalability of thesepictures, however, I cannot accept your generosity there, either."

  "Pictures!" The doctor, turning puzzled eyes back to the mirror, sawnow that a large oil painting hung beside it on the wall. "I wasn'ttalking about your pictures, man," he scoffed then. "I was looking atthat mirror there, and I'd like the highboy downstairs, if I couldpersuade you to part with them, and--WOULD you be willing to part withthem?"

  "What do you think!" (So marvelous was the change, and so great wasthe shining glory in Daniel Burton's face, that the doctor caughthimself actually blinking.) "Do you think there's anything, ANYTHINGthat I wouldn't part with, if I thought I could give that boy achance? Make your own selection, doctor. I only hope you'llwant--really WANT--enough of them to amount to something."

  The doctor threw a keen glance into his face.

  "Amount to something! Don't you know the value of these things here?"

  Daniel Burton laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I suppose theyare--valuable. But I shall have to confess I DON'T know very muchabout it. They're very old, I can vouch for that."

  "Old! Humph!" The doctor was close to the mirror now, examining itwith the appreciative eyes of the real lover of the antique. "I shouldsay they were. Jove, that's a beauty! And I've got just the placethat's hungering for it."

  "Good! Suppose we look about the house, then, a little," suggestedDaniel Burton. "Perhaps we'll find some more things--er--good for ahungry stomach, eh?" And with a light on his face such as had not beenthere for long months past, Daniel Burton led the way from the studio.