She went down the stair, slowly at first, and then, near the foot, with swift step and eyes averted from the spot there beneath the circle of white light.
Her father looked up with dreamy eyes. He was absorbed in his books. Frances drew a little sobbing breath of relief. She would not be called upon to make any effort. She picked up a well-thumbed and well-loved copy of Burroughs and slipped into her chair. The book lay open on her knees; she knew her father was heedless of the unturned leaves.
But at the supper table, a cup clattered against a saucer as she handed them, Susan saw; the food on her plate was untouched, jealous black eyes from the half-opened pantry door watched--she was white, her gray eyes were dark and troubled--jealous eyes of an old bent darkey who would have shut every trouble from her, heeded, and keenly enough contrasted them with the brilliant laughing face she had looked into when she opened the door in the dusk of the afternoon. There had been one visitor since then; she knew at whose door to lay the blame.
When Frances came into the kitchen an hour later with a great pretence of gayety the old woman read her through and through.
"Susan, just think," she cried, "I'm going away on an early train to-morrow!"
"'Fore Gawd!" said Susan to herself, "it's wuss than I thought."
"You'll give me an early breakfast?" coaxingly.
"Think I'm gwine let yuh go widout anything ter eat," snapped Susan, cross in her anxiety. "Whar yuh gwine?"
"Down to Cousin Tom's; he says he wants me to come; he wrote to father to-day." Frances was making powerful use of a casual invitation at the end of a business note. "Father has just told me. I'm going to-morrow. It's the very time, the weather is lovely. We'll gather walnuts and--and persimmons."
The constrained manner had no effect in fooling Susan. "Plenty walnuts up de road," she grumbled, "and as for 'simmons, '_simmons_! I don't see nuthin' else in de fence corners anywhars, myself."
"Oh, Susan, it isn't that," half tearfully. "I want to go."
"Em--hm! So I thought, wants to go!" Susan opened the stove door and flung in a piece of wood--she could never be persuaded to cook with coal--and banged the door wrathfully. "What yo' pa gwine do widout you? How's I gwine get erlong?"