Dawn

Oh, Susan," he began resolutely, as he flung open the dining-room door.
"Well, sir?" Susan stood at attention, her arms akimbo.
"Susan, I—I insist—that is, I wish—-"
"You was sayin'—" she reminded him coldly, as he came to a helplesspause.
"Yes. That is, I was saying—" His eyes wavered and fell to the table.
"Oh, hash—red-flannel hash! That's fine, Susan!"
But Susan was not to be cajoled. Her eyes still regarded him coldly.
"Yes, sir, hash. We most generally does have beet hash after b'ileddinner, sir. You was sayin'?"
"Nothing, Susan, nothing. I—I've changed my mind," murmured the manhastily, pulling out his chair. "Well, Keith, will you have some ofSusan's nice hash?"
"Yes, sir," said Keith.
Susan said nothing. But was there a quiet smile on her lips as sheleft the room? If so, neither the man nor the boy seemed to notice it.
As for the very obvious change of attitude on the part of the man—Keith had witnessed a like phenomenon altogether too often to give ita second thought. And as for the doggerel that had brought about thesituation—that, also, was too familiar to cause comment.
It had been years since Susan first called them to dinner with her"poem"; but Keith could remember just how pleased she had been, andhow gayly she had repeated it over and over, so as not to forget it.
"Oh, of course I know that 'ate' ain't good etiquette in that place,"she had admitted at the time. "It should be 'eat.' But 'eat' don'trhyme, an' 'ate' does. So I'm goin' to use it. An' I can, anyhow. It'spoem license; an' that'll let you do anything."
Since then she had used the verse for every meal—except when she wasout of temper—and by substituting breakfast or supper for dinner, shehad a call that was conveniently universal.
The fact that she used it ONLY when she was good-natured constitutedan unfailing barometer of the atmospheric condition of the kitchen,and was really, in a way, no small convenience—especially for littleboys in quest of cookies or bread-and-jam. As for the master of thehouse—this was not the first time he had threatened an energeticwarfare against that "absurd doggerel" (which he had cordiallyabhorred from the very first); neither would it probably be the lasttime that Susan's calm "Well, sir?" should send him into ignominiousdefeat before the battle was even begun. And, really, after all wassaid and done, there was still that one unfailing refuge for hisdiscomforted recollection: he could be thankful, when he heard it,that she was good-natured; and with Susan that was no small thing tobe thankful for, as everybody knew—who knew Susan.
To-day, therefore, the defeat was not so bitter as to take all thesweetness out of the "red-flannel" hash, and the frown on DanielBurton's face was quite gone when Susan brought in the dessert. Nordid it return that night, even when Susan's shrill voice caroledthrough the hall:
     "Supper's ready, supper's ready,
      Hurry up, or you'll be late,
      Then you'll sure be cross and heady
      If there's nothin' left to ate."
CHAPTER III
FOR JERRY AND NED
It was Susan Betts who discovered that Keith was not reading so muchthat summer.
"An' him with his nose always in a book before," as she said one dayto Mrs. McGuire. "An' he don't act natural, somehow, neither, ter myway of thinkin'. Have YOU noticed anything?"
"Why, no, I don't know as I have," answered Mrs. McGuire from theother side of the fence, "except that he's always traipsin' off to thewoods with his father. But then, he's always done that, more or less."
"Indeed he has! But always before he's lugged along a book, sometimestwo; an' now—why he hain't even read the book his father give him onhis birthday. I know, 'cause I asked him one day what 't was about,an' he said he didn't know; he hadn't read it."
"Deary me, Susan! Well, what if he hadn't? I shouldn't fret aboutthat. My gracious, Susan, if you had four children same as I have,instead of one, I guess you wouldn't do no worryin' jest because a boydidn't read a book. Though, as for my John, he—-"
Susan lifted her chin.
"I wasn't talkin' about your children, Mis' McGuire," she interrupted."An' I reckon nobody'd do no worryin' if they didn't read. But MasterKeith is a different supposition entirely. He's very intelligible,Master Keith is, and so is his father before him. Books is food tothem—real food. Hain't you ever heard of folks devourin' books? Well,they do it. Of course I don't mean literaryly, but metaphysically."
"Oh, land o' love, Susan Betts!" cried Mrs. McGuire, throwing up bothhands and turning away scornfully. "Of course, when you get to talkin'like that, NOBODY can say anything to you! However in the world thatpoor Mr. Burton puts up with you, I don't see. I wouldn't—not aday—not a single day!" And by way of emphasis she entered her houseand shut the door with a slam.
Susan Betts, left alone, shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.
"Well, 'nobody asked you, sir, she said,'" she quoted, under herbreath, and slammed her door, also, by way of emphasis.
Yet both Susan and Mrs. McGuire knew very well that the next day wouldfind them again in the usual friendly intercourse over the back-yardfence.
Susan Betts was a neighbor's daughter. She had lived all her life inthe town, and she knew everybody. Just because she happened to work inDaniel Burton's kitchen was no reason, to her mind, why she should notbe allowed to express her opinion freely on all occasions, and on allsubjects, and to all persons. Such being her conviction she conductedherself accordingly. And Susan always lived up to her convictions.
In the kitchen to-day she found Keith.
"Oh, I say, Susan, I was looking for you. Dad wants you."
"What for?"
"I don't know; but I GUESS it's because he wants to have somethingbesides beans and codfish and fish-hash to eat. Anyhow, he SAID he wasgoing to speak to you about it."
Susan stiffened into inexorable sternness.
"So he's goin' ter speak ter me, is he? Well, 't will be mighty littlegood that'll do, as he ought to know very well. Beefsteaks an' roastfowls cost money. Has he got the money for