"I understand perfectly," Susan said graciously. And she knew that at last she really did. Mrs. Fox was fluttering like some poor bird that sees danger near its young. She couldn't have anyone else, especially this insignificant little Miss Brown, who seemed to be making rather an impression everywhere, jeopardize Connie's intimacy with Dolly Ripley, without using such poor and obvious little weapons as lay at her command to prevent it.
Standing on the porch of the Burlingame Club, and staring out across the gracious slopes of the landscape, Susan had an exhilarated sense of being among the players of this fascinating game at last. She must play it alone, to be sure, but far better alone than assisted as Connie Fox was assisted. It was an immense advantage to be expected to accompany Emily everywhere; it made a snub practically impossible, while heightening the compliment when she was asked anywhere without Emily. Susan was always willing to entertain a difficult guest, to play cards or not to play with apparently equal enjoyment--more desirable than either, she was "fun," and the more she was laughed at, the funnier she grew.
"And you'll be there with Emily, of course, Miss Brown," said the different hostess graciously. "Emily, you're going to bring Susan Brown, you know!--I'm telephoning, Miss Brown, because I'm afraid my note didn't make it clear that we want you, too!"
Emily's well-known eccentricity did not make Susan the less popular; even though she was personally involved in it.
"Oh, I wrote you a note for Emily this morning, Mrs. Willis," Susan would say, at the club, "she's feeling wretchedly to-day, and she wants to be excused from your luncheon to-morrow!"
"Oh?" The matron addressed would eye the messenger with kindly sharpness. "What's the matter--very sick?"
"We-ell, not dying!" A dimple would betray the companion's demureness.
"Not dying? No, I suppose not! Well, you tell Emily that she's a silly, selfish little cat, or words to that effect!"
"I'll choose words to that effect," Susan would assure the speaker, smilingly.
"You couldn't come, anyway, I suppose?"
"Oh, no, Mrs. Willis! Thank you so much!"
"No, of course not." The matron would bite her lips in momentary irritation, and, when they parted, the cause of that pretty, appreciative, amusing little companion of Emily Saunders would be appreciably strengthened.
One winter morning Emily tossed a square, large envelope across the breakfast table toward her companion.
"Sue, that looks like a Browning invitation! What do you bet that he's sent you a card for the dances!"