re!" Then with a
swift movement she leaned forward and laid her cheek on my knee. "You're
too good to me, Ambo. I oughtn't to be here--wearing wonderful dresses,
having a maid to do my hair and--and polish me and button me and mend
me. I wasn't meant to have an easy time; I wasn't born for it. First
thing you know, Ambo, I'll get to thinking I was--and be mean to you
somehow!"

"I'll risk that, Susan."

"Yes, but I oughtn't to let you. I could learn to be somebody's maid
like Sonia; and if I study hard--and I'm going to!--some day I could be
a governess like Miss Disbrow; only really know things, not just
pretend. Or when I'm old enough, a housekeeper like Miss Goucher! That's
what you should make me do--work for you! I can clean things better than
Nora now; I never skip underneaths. Truly, Ambo, it's all wrong, my
having people work for me--at your expense. I know it is! Miss Disbrow
made it all clear as clear, right away."

"What! Has Miss Disbrow been stuffing this nonsense into your head!" I
was furious.

"Oh, not in words!" cried Susan. "She talks just the other way. She
keeps telling me how fortunate I am to have a guardian like you, and how
I must be so careful never to annoy you or make you regret what you've
done for me. Then she sighs and says life is very hard and unjust to
many girls born with more advantages. Of course she means herself, Ambo.
You see, she hates having to work at all. She's much nicer to look at
and talk to, but she reminds me of Pearl. She's no damn--she's no good,
Ambo dear. She's hard where she ought to be soft, and soft where she
ought to be hard. She tries to get round people, so she can coax things
out of them. But she'll never get round Miss Goucher, Ambo--or me." And
Susan hesitated, lifting her head from my knee and looking up at me
doubtfully, only to add, "I--I'm not so sure about _you_."

"Indeed. You think, possibly, Miss Disbrow might get round me, eh?"

"Well, she might--if I wasn't here," said Susan. "She might marry you."

My explosion of laughter--I am ordinarily a quiet person--startled
Susan. "Have I said something awful again?" she cried.

"Dreadful!" I sputtered, wiping my eyes. "Why, you little goose! Don't
you see how I need you? To plumb the depths for me--to protect me? I
thought I was your guardian, Susan; but that's just my mannish
complacency. I'm not your guardian at all, dear. You're mine."

But I saw at once that my mirth had confused her, had hurt