But Maizie looked belligerent.
Suzanna's temper threatened to flame forth. With a mighty effort she controlled it. She turned to her father. "Father, don't you think Maizie had better have lemon ice cream soda?" she asked.
"Anything she wants; anything she wants," Mr. Procter answered and not lowering his voice, even in Miss Smithson's presence: "What do you think you'll have, Suzanna?"
"I'll have a lemon ice cream soda," said Suzanna primly. And she had difficulty in restraining her tears when Maizie deliberately gave her command for chocolate ice cream soda. When the orders came Suzanna scarcely touched her glass. Covertly she watched Miss Smithson; she saw, how daintily that lady ate her plain vanilla ice cream; perhaps, after all, even teachers found it necessary to find some subsistence and Miss Smithson had hit upon ice cream as the most aesthetic. At least Suzanna was forced to believe this in her endeavor to keep intact her ideal of Miss Smithson.
Then Miss Smithson said in a pleasant, every-day voice:
"I'm glad to have this opportunity, Mr. Procter, of asking you if Suzanna may take part in an Indian Drill I expect to give at school next month."
"Why, I can see no reason against her taking part," said Mr. Procter. "You would enjoy such an occasion, would you not, Suzanna?"
"She will need an outfit," Miss Smithson went on, treading delicately, since in part she guessed the state of the Procter finances and she wished to be very sure before implicating Suzanna in any embarrassing situation, "including dancing slippers, though I may be able to rent the Indian costumes from a masquerader in the city, and then the cost will be lessened."
"That will be all right," said Mr. Procter immediately. "Just tell us the clothes she will need and her mother will get them."
"That's very nice," said Miss Smithson, though she felt still a little uneasy.