She clenched her hands. "You can't do that, Graham," she began, a note of entreaty in her voice; "you can't possibly be so absurdly quixotic." "And why not?" "I can't understand!" she repeated. "Such philanthropic ideas have not occurred to you before." He went to her, standing so he could look into her eyes. "It's late in the day, but I'll try to do some little thing my mother would like me to do." Mrs. Bartlett was about to speak again in burning protest when her glance fell upon the children, Suzanna and her own boy. And the eloquent expressions upon those small faces kept her silent. At last she turned as though to leave the room. Over her shoulder she spoke. "At least you will not insist upon my presence here while you fulfill your preposterous plans?" He replied gently: "As always, I ask nothing that you cannot give in perfect freedom." She hesitated, was about to say something, stopped and took another subject: "As for your mother--" He interrupted her, but to repeat "As for my mother--" but he left his thought unfinished. Then he, too, went toward the door, and as he passed Suzanna he let his fine, nervous hand touch her bright hair. Once he turned. "Suzanna, as I told you," he said, "David, my fine gardener, has interested me somewhat in your father's machine; perhaps I'll make a journey to your home some day to see it." CHAPTER XX DRUSILLA SETS OUT ON A JOURNEY When Suzanna, returning home on wings, opened the front door, she heard voices in the kitchen. And there, as she entered, she saw Mrs. Reynolds engaged in reading aloud the directions on a paper pattern. Suzanna, full of her story, waited almost impatiently until Mrs. Reynolds had finished. Then she burst forth: "Oh, mother, Graham Bartlett's father's going to make tent homes in his yard for the poor people." Mrs. Procter, leaning over the kitchen table, selected a pin from an ornate pin cushion and inserted it carefully in the pattern under her hand before turning an incredulous eye upon her daughter. "It's for his mother's sake," continued Suzanna, who had grasped the spiritual meaning of Mr. Bartlett's offer. Mrs. Reynolds was the first to voice her surprise. "Why, that man, to my knowledge, has never taken any real interest in anything. Reynolds says he just draws big dividends out of the mill, runs about from one interest to another, and cares really naught for anyone." "Oh, but he's very kind, Mrs. Reynolds," Suzanna objected. "As soon as he knew his yards were too big to waste and that his mother would love to have him do good, he told his wife he meant to put up tents till new homes were built." Mrs. Procter cast a knowing look above Suzanna's head. Mrs. Reynolds caught it and sent back a tender smile. "Out of the mouths of babes," she began, when Maizie entered. In her tow were the two shy little orphans. Maizie spoke at once to Mrs. Reynolds. "I knew you were still here, Mrs. Reynolds," she said; "I can always tell your funny laugh."