Chapter 31: What Susan Did Not See

There was apparently no limit to Daniel Burton’s enthusiastic cooperation with Dorothy Parkman on the matter of establishing a workroom for the blind. He set to work with her at once. The very next morning after her initial visit, he went with her to Mazie Sanborn’s father, and together they formulated the first necessary plans.

Thomas Sanborn was generous, and cordially enthusiastic, though his words and manner carried the crisp terseness of the busy man whose time is money. At the end of five minutes he summoned one David Patch to the office, and introduced him to Miss Dorothy and Daniel Burton as one of his most expert engineers.

“And now I’ll turn the whole thing over to you,” he declared briskly, with his finger already on the button that would summon his stenographer for dictation. “Just step into that room there and stay as long as you like. Whatever Patch says I’ll back up. You’ll find him thoroughly capable and trustworthy. And now good luck to you,” he finished, throwing wide the door of the adjoining room.

The next moment Miss Dorothy and Daniel Burton found themselves alone with the keen-eyed, alert little man who had been introduced as David Patch. And David Patch did, indeed, appear to be very capable. He evidently understood his business, and he gave interested attention to Miss Dorothy’s story of what she had seen, and of what she wished now to try to do. He took them then for a tour of the great shop, especially to the department where the busy fingers were winding with tape the thousands of wire coils.

Miss Dorothy’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and she fairly clapped her hands in her delight, while Daniel Burton said that even he could see the possibilities of that kind of work for their purpose.

At the end of a long hour of talking and planning, Miss Dorothy and Daniel Burton started for home. But even then Daniel Burton had yet more to say, for at his gate, which was on Miss Dorothy’s way home, he begged her to come in for a moment.

“I had another letter to-day about a blind soldier—this time from Baltimore. I want to show it to you. You see, so many write to me, on account of my own boy. You will come in, just a minute?”

“Why, yes, of course I—will.” The pause, and the half-stifled word that finished the sentence came as the tall figure of Keith Burton turned the corner of the piazza and walked toward the steps.

“Hullo! Dad?” Keith’s voice was questioning.

“Yes; and—”

“And Dorothy Parkman,” broke in the girl with a haste so precipitate as to make her almost choke.

“Miss Parkman?” Once again, for a moment, Keith’s face lighted as with
a flame. “Come up. Come around on the south side,” he cried eagerly.
“I’ve been sunning myself there. You’d think it was May instead of
March.”
“No, she can’t go and sun herself with you,” interposed Daniel Burton with mock severity. “She’s coming with me into the house. I want to show her something.”

“Well, I—I like that,” retorted the youth. He spoke jauntily, and gave a short little laugh. But the light had died from his face and a slow red had crept to his forehead.

“Well, she can’t. She’s coming with me,” reiterated the man. “Now run back to your sun bath. If you’re good maybe we’ll be out pretty soon,” he laughed back at his son, as he opened the house door for his guest. “That’s right—you didn’t want him to know, yet, did you?” he added, looking a bit anxiously into the girl’s somewhat flushed face as he closed the hall door.