"Oh, Mammy will read it to us."
"All right! Hurrah for Mammy! Of course she will."
"But that is no reason why we should not play 'The Last of the Mo's' now," resumed Tom. "We can tell Lily enough, as we go along, to show her what it's like, and of course she wouldn't take an important part, anyway—just a squaw or an odd brave. Cut along, Teddy, and bring the kid over."
Lily came hurrying back with Teddy; and the four stood for a moment together by the front door, laughing and chatting, and giving out the parts for the game. They had never played it before without Sue. Mary would rather not have played it now, but that seemed no reason why the boys should not have their favorite game, and no doubt Tom could play Uncas very well—though, of course, not as well, even if he was a boy.
Tom was just striking an attitude and brandishing an imaginary tomahawk, when, on the opposite side of the street, Sue came along, arm in arm, as usual, with Clarice Packard. The Hart children looked in dismay. Was this their Sue? Something was wrong with her hair. It was rolled up high over her forehead, and bobbed up into a short cue behind. Something was wrong with her feet; at least, so it seemed from the way she walked, mincing on her toes. And she had a spotted veil on, and she carried a parasol. Was this their Quicksilver Sue? Could it be?
As they passed, Clarice looked across the way and bowed a triumphant little bow; then tittered rudely, and whispered something in her companion's ear. Sue held her head high, and was walking past looking straight before her, as she always did now, when suddenly it seemed as if some feeling took hold upon her, stronger than her own will. She turned her head involuntarily, and looked at the group standing on the familiar door-step. A wave of color swept over her face; the tears rushed into her eyes. For a moment she seemed to waver, almost to sway toward them; then resolutely she turned her head away again, and walked on.
"Mary," said Tom, "do you know what?"
"No, Tom. I don't know this particular 'what.' I know—what you saw just now." And poor Mary looked as if the heart for play was clean gone out of her.
"Well, I'll tell you. Our Sue has had just about enough of her new treasure. I'll bet my new fishing-line that she would give all her best boots to come and play 'Last of the Mo's' with us in the orchard."