involuntarily glanced at his feet. Did he move on velvet casters?

A moment, then the big man gave a twist of pain. A rheumatic dart had
seized him, had Suzanna known, but she could not know, and a little
exclamation was drawn from her. At the sound, the other occupant of the
room started and glanced around till finally his eyes came to rest upon
the small girl in a large chair thrust well away in a shadowy corner of
the room.

"Well!" at length he ejaculated. And then: "Are you one of the Sunday
School class?"

"Yes, I'm Suzanna Procter. The other little girls have gone out into the
garden."

He grunted and continued to glare fiercely at her. But Suzanna knew no
fear. She felt strangely a sudden high sense of exhilaration, just as
once when she had been caught in a brilliant electric storm. Some
element in her rose and responded to the big flashes; just as she had
responded to Drusilla's play of imagination. Now a force was roused in
her that claimed kinship with the big, thunderous man opposite. She sat
up very straight, and stared right back at him. Then she said very
calmly:

"You look like an eagle!"

"Then you're afraid of me!" He flung the words at her with a certain
triumph.

"I'm not! I don't like the way you shout, but _I'm_ not afraid of you."