“It beats for you, Little Fawn;” and he ran out his tongue in derision.
All the morning she sat on the floor at his feet, braiding the rags for her mat, content to hear him speak occasionally, and to look often into his face with dog-like devotion. It was there Susie saw her when she returned from school earlier in the afternoon than usual, and was beckoned into the kitchen by Ling.
“He’s makin’ a mash,” said Ling laconically, as he jerked his thumb toward the open door of the living-room.
All the girlish vivacity seemed to go out of Susie’s face in her first swift glance. It hardened in mingled shame and anger.
“Mother,” she said sharply, “you promised me that you wouldn’t sit on the floor like an Injun.”
“We’re gettin’ sociable,” said Smith mockingly.
The woman glanced at Smith, and hesitated, but finally got up and seated herself on the bench.
“Why don’t you try bein’ ’sociable’ with the Schoolmarm?” Susie sneered.
“Maybe I will.”
“And maybe you won’t get passed up like a white chip!”