Norton, Andre - Novel 23 by The White Jade Fox (v1.0) Page A

into a bag of scarlet silk embroidered with gold thread. That
the "her" she spoke of meant Honora, Saranna had no doubt.
                   "She wants Rufe to beau you around; she
told Mrs. Parton that!" Saranna betrayed, she hoped, no reaction on that
statement.
                   "I am sure Honora made no such remark
before you."
                   "I told you," Damaris continued.
"I listen—I have to. With her around one must. She always gets her way, or
thinks she is going to. Do you want Rufe to beau you?”
                   "Listening is wrong, Damaris,"
Saranna gave lip service to her own traming. But she was in no doubt at all
about the truth of what Damaris had blurted out. Honora must have made just some
such statement to the housekeeper. Her own suspicions,
thus reinforced, brought about real inner dismay. Only this was the enlightened
nineteenth century. Girls, in spite of the disadvantages of being much under
the control of relatives and guardians, could not be thrust into some
situations against their wills. And if a strong will were needed to protect
herself against such an encroachment upon her own privacy, Saranna could
certainly summon such.
                   Damaris laughed. "That made you think,
didn't it? I could see you didn't like to hear that. It was good of me, really,
to tell you, you know. Now you can be ready when she tries some of her tricks.
And she will, she always does—“
                   "Damaris," Saranna spoke with what
she hoped was emphasis enough to make the younger girl listen and heed.
"You must remember your grandfather's advice and not provoke Honora. I do
not know how much power she has over your future, but—"
                   "Jethro Stowell is my guardian. He says
what is done here, until I am grown up."
                   "But Jethro is in Brazil . He will be there a long time,"
Saranna reminded her. "Is—is there someone else—besides Honora—who can
decide your way of living here?"
                   Damaris regarded her with a long, searching
look before she answered. Her tongue tip swept over her lower lip as if her
mouth had gone suddenly dry. Then she nodded.
                   "There's someone—someone who can take
care of the Nu Wu—''
                   "Who?" Saranna demanded.
                   Now Damaris shook her head with the same vigor
as she had nodded.
                   "That's a secret Grandfather's own
secret. Only I know now—"
                   "It may be important for me to know too,
in the future." Saranna was exasperated.
                   "I know. That's all that's important.
You'd better think of Rufe and what you are going to do about him." She
laughed a little maliciously. "Me—I'm going to dust the porcelain. Mrs.
Parton and the maids—Grandfather said never leave it to them.
Butterfingers—that's what most of them are!" She skipped past Saranna to
open the door and slip out. The older girl had no recourse but to follow her.
Before she could even call to Damaris, the child was already halfway down the
stairs and Saranna felt it wiser not to try to follow her at that moment.
                   Saranna had no idea how she would handle the
problem of Rufus Parton, but she was not going to let him intimidate her, she
made up her mind to that. She was going to walk in the garden. If he appeared
there, to again make himself objectionable, she would snub him in a manner
which would pierce even his thick skin.
                   But it was the sharp cry of pain which led her
to Rufus. That the cry came from an animal, Saranna never doubted and she
hurried toward it, certain that some poor creature was in great trouble. So she
ran, from one of the alleys of clipped box which walled the garden path, into
the open.
                   There were two figures before her, intent