“Can’t you even tell me where you’re going?” she ventured, as if not quite sure of the delicacy of asking.
“Well—no, I don’t think I can; not till I get back. Besides, even if I could it wouldn’t be much use, because I couldn’t give you my address there. I don’t know what it will be.”
“But what does it matter, if you’re coming back to-night?”
“Of course I’m coming back! How could you possibly imagine I should think of leaving you for more than a day?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t be afraid—not much, that is, with the poker, and Nat’s water-pistol,” emended Junie, still judicious.
Susy again enfolded her vehemently, and then turned to more practical matters. She explained that she wished if possible to catch an eight-thirty train from the Gare de Lyon, and that there was not a moment to lose if the children were to be dressed and fed, and full instructions written out for Junie and Angele, before she rushed for the underground.
While she bathed Geordie, and then hurried into her own clothes, she could not help wondering at her own extreme solicitude for her charges. She remembered, with a pang, how often she had deserted Clarissa Vanderlyn for the whole day, and even for two or three in succession—poor little Clarissa, whom she knew to be so unprotected, so exposed to evil influences. She had been too much absorbed in her own greedy bliss to be more than intermittently aware of the child; but now, she felt, no sorrow however ravaging, no happiness however absorbing, would ever again isolate her from her kind.
And then these children were so different! The exquisite Clarissa was already the predestined victim of her surroundings: her budding soul was divided from Susy’s by the same barrier of incomprehension that separated the latter from Mrs. Vanderlyn. Clarissa had nothing to teach Susy but the horror of her own hard little appetites; whereas the company of the noisy argumentative Fulmers had been a school of wisdom and abnegation.
As she applied the brush to Geordie’s shining head and the handkerchief to his snuffling nose, the sense of what she owed him was so borne in on Susy that she interrupted the process to catch him to her bosom.
“I’ll have such a story to tell you when I get back to-night, if you’ll promise me to be good all day,” she bargained with him; and Geordie, always astute, bargained back: “Before I promise, I’d like to know what story.”