in the thought that her little daughter was
provided with a pretty and appropriate pair of dancing shoes.

But it was very perfunctorily that Suzanna went through the ensuing
rehearsals at school. Her spirits were not lifted even when Miss
Smithson announced that the costumes were to be obtained through a
masquerader at the small cost of twenty-five cents for each pupil. But
at length, the child's natural persevering force had its way, and she
set her mind to studying the question of how to avoid wearing the
unsuitable shoes and still preserve her father's confidence in his own
good judgment. Usually she asked no help, working alone on the problems
which assailed her, but suddenly the thought of her friend Drusilla came
to her. She would ask Drusilla what she thought about the matter.

CHAPTER XII

DRUSILLA'S REMINISCENCES

One afternoon immediately after school, Suzanna, taking Maizie with her,
went to call on Drusilla. Twice since her first visit in July she had
gone to the little home, but on both occasions Drusilla had been ill,
unable to see anyone. But today the pleasant faced maid admitted the
children.

"Go right up to the attic," she said. "Mrs. Bartlett is there looking
over some old trunks."

In the attic, a tiny place with slanting roof and unfinished walls, the
children found Mrs. Bartlett, sitting on the floor beside a huge,
overflowing trunk. Old-fashioned dresses, high-heeled satin slippers,
dancing programs, painted fans, were all heaped together.

"We've come to see you, Drusilla," said Suzanna at once. "I've been
twice before, but you didn't know it. This is my sister, Maizie. I've
got a very important question to ask you."

Drusilla rose from the floor. "I'm glad to see you both. I've often
thought of you, Suzanna. Close the lid of that trunk and sit on it and
your little sister Maizie can sit in that old easy chair in the corner.
That is, if you want to stay up here in the attic."

Suzanna looked about her. The attic was rather sad-looking, she thought,
not full of its own importance as the one at home, but still, very
interesting. Old portraits hung on the slanting walls. In corners were
piles of old furniture looking strangely lifelike in the shadows.

"We'd rather stay up here, Drusilla," she said. "And we'll stay a long
time with you, if you like."

"Very good," said Drusilla. She drew forth a low rocker and seated
herself.

Suzanna suddenly remembered her manners. "Perhap