Then: "I suppose you'd better go
downstairs now, mother," he said.

His mother left the window. Passing the bed she once more paused and
looked down at him.

"Well, little son," she said at last, "good night. I've been up here an
outrageous time." She put her arms around his small shoulders and drew
him to her.

But for the first time in his short life she felt no response in her
child. Indeed, she recognized his withdrawal from her, more poignant in
its effect upon her because it was unconscious on his part. In that one
moment the instinct of motherhood leapt full within her, a sudden
bewildering emotion, totally new to her in its aliveness, its vividness.
And then cold truth swept in on her that by some act she had wiped from
his young heart in one moment his ideal of her.

She sank on her knees beside his bed, realizing dimly how great a crown
his love had been. After an appreciable length of time, his hand crept
out and rested a second lightly on her arm, and at the touch she raised
her head. "I've disappointed you, Graham," she said. He did not answer.
She waited, and then as he was still silent she rose. She shook her
unwonted mood from her and her face hardened into its habitual
brilliance.

"Good night, Graham," she said and went away.

CHAPTER XIV

THE STRAY DOG

Miss Smithson had had years of experience with children. She knew their
sensitiveness, their capacity for suffering through those incidents
which adults term trifles.

She had questioned Suzanna with much adroit delicacy concerning the
shoes, and had elicited the story of the father's purchase. Though she
read correctly the child's real shrinking from the thought of being the
cynosure of many amused eyes, she felt herself helpless.

That one odd pair of shoes in the company of participating children! In
imagination Miss Smithson visualized the unsuccessful efforts of their
owner to hide them, to find her place in the background. The
kind-hearted teacher really suffered in her anticipation of Suzanna's
pain.

So when the great night arrived and the music sounded the approach of
the Indian maidens, Miss Smithson, sitting in the front row beside
Suzanna's parents, kept her eyes steadfastly lowered. At length, not
hearing the expected titters from children in the audience, she found
her courage and looked up. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Suzanna's
face and rested there.

For pictured there in place of depression, self-pity,