He has a wonderful machine in the attic and sometimes when he's thinking
of his invention, he doesn't see us at all, and mother tells us not to
talk then to disturb him."

"What's your father's name?"

"Richard Procter," said Suzanna. And then:

"You are like an eagle; that's why I like you. You'd fight, wouldn't
you, if you had to! But I shouldn't mind your shouting. And I'd rather
you'd see my toes sticking through my shoe than any person in the world
outside my family. Now, get me a needle and thread before they all come
back," she finished.

The man stared into her upraised flower-face. His own turned red for the
visible second of hesitation. Then he raised his voice and called. The
timid one appeared. His master said: "Get me some black thread and a
needle; also a thimble. Don't stand there gaping! I'm waiting."

With some difficulty, the amazed valet gained volition over his power of
locomotion. He returned shortly bearing the desired articles reposing on
a silver tray, and retired once more, his eyes still dazed.

"Now hurry up," said the big man to Suzanna, "if you want to get into
the garden at all."

Suzanna threaded the needle, then removed her slipper. "I'll overcast
the ribbon, like mother does seams," she said. "Will you hold the
slipper? There, that's easier. You see I need both hands."