Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise, by David Graham Phillips

against the teeth. "You are too young.""Oh, come now, mother," cried Warham, good-humoredly."That's foolishness. Let the young folks have a good time. Youdidn't think you were too young at Susie's age.""You don't understand, George," said Fanny after she had givenhim a private frown. Susie's gaze was on the tablecloth. "I can'tpermit Sam to come here to see Susie."Ruth's eyes were down also. About her lips was a twitching thatmeant a struggle to hide a pleased smile."I've no objection to Susie's having boys of her own age cometo see her," continued Mrs. Warham in the same precise,restrained manner. "But Sam is too old.""Now, mother––"Mrs. Warham met his eyes steadily. "I must protect my sister'schild, George," she said. At last she had found what she felt was ajust reason for keeping Sam away from Susan, so her tone washonest and strong.Warham lowered his gaze. He understood. "Oh–as you thinkbest, Fan; I didn't mean to interfere," said he awkwardly. He turnedon Susan with his affection in his eyes. "Well, Brownie, it looks likechess with your old uncle, doesn't it?"Susan's bosom was swelling, her lip trembling. "I–I––" shebegan. She choked back the sobs, faltered out: "I don't think Icould, Uncle," and rushed from the room.There was an uncomfortable pause. Then Warham said, "I mustsay, Fan, I think–if you had to do it–you might have spared thegirl's feelings."Mrs. Warham felt miserable about it also. "Susie took me bysurprise," she apologized. Then, defiantly, "And what else can Ido? You know he doesn't come for any good."Warham stared in amazement. "Now, what does »that« mean?"he demanded."You know very well what it means," retorted his wife.Her tone made him understand. He reddened, and with tooblustering anger brought his fist down on the table."Susan's our daughter. She's Ruth's sister."Ruth pushed back her chair and stood up. Her expression madeher look much older than she was. "I wish you could induce therest of the town to think that, papa," said she. "It'd make myposition less painful." And she, too, left the room."What's she talking about?" asked Warham."It's true, George," replied Fanny with trembling lip. "It's all myfault–insisting on keeping her. I might have known!""I think you and Ruth must be crazy. I've seen no sign.""Have you seen any of the boys calling on Susan since sheshot up from a child to a girl? Haven't you noticed she isn't invitedany more except when it can't be avoided?"Warham's face was fiery with rage. He looked helplessly,furiously about. But he said nothing. To fight public sentimentwould be like trying to thrust back with one's fists an oncreepingfog. Finally he cried, "It's too outrageous to talk about.""If I only knew what to do!" moaned Fanny.A long silence, while Warham was grasping the fullness of themeaning, the frightful meaning, in these revelations so astoundingto him. At last he said:"Does »she« realize?""I guess so... I don't know... I don't believe she does. She's themost innocent child that ever grew up.""If I had a chance, I'd sell out and move away.""Where?" said his wife. "Where would people accept–her?"Warham became suddenly angry again. "I don't believe it!" hecried, his look and tone contradicting his words. "You've beenmaking a mountain out of a molehill."And he strode from the room, flung on his hat and went for awalk. As Mrs. Warham came from the dining-room a few minuteslater, Ruth appeared in the side veranda doorway. "I think I'lltelephone Arthur to come tomorrow evening instead," said she."He'd not like it, with Sam here too.""That would be better," assented her mother. "Yes, I'dtelephone him if I were you."Thus it came about that Susan, descending the stairs to thelibrary to get a book, heard Ruth say into the telephone in her