reading French for an hour, German for an hour, gardening, tramping, driving, perhaps making a call on some sick old woman with soup and jelly in her basket, or carrying armfuls of blossoms to the church for decoration.  If one of Emily’s sick headaches came on, it would be Susan’s duty to care for her tenderly, and to read to her in a clear, low, restful voice when she was recovering; to write her notes, to keep her vases filled with flowers, to “preside” at the tea-table, efficient, unobtrusive, and indispensable.  She would make herself useful to Ella, too; arrange her collections of coins, carry her telephone messages, write her notes.  She would accompany the little old mother on her round through the greenhouses, read to her and be ready to fly for her book or her shawl.  And if Susan’s visionary activities also embraced a little missionary work in the direction of the son of the house, it was of a very sisterly and blameless nature.  Surely the most demure of companions, reading to Mrs. Saunders in the library, might notice an attentive listener lounging in a dark corner, or might color shyly when Ken’s sisters commented on the fact that he seemed to be at home a good deal these days.

It was a little disillusioning to discover, as during her first weeks in the new work she did discover, that almost no duties whatever would be required of her.  It seemed to make more irksome the indefinite thing that was required of her; her constant interested participation in just whatever happened to interest Emily at the moment.  Susan loved tennis and driving, loved shopping and lunching in town, loved to stroll over to the hotel for tea in the pleasant afternoons, or was satisfied to lie down and read for an hour or two.

But it was very trying to a person of her definite impulsive briskness never to know, from one hour or one day to the next, just what occupation was in prospect.  Emily would order the carriage for four o’clock, only to decide, when it came around, that she would rather drag the collies out into the side-garden, to waste three dozen camera plates and three hours in trying to get good pictures of them.  Sometimes Emily herself posed before the camera, and Susan took picture after picture of her.

“Sue, don’t you think it would be fun to try some of me in my Mandarin coat?  Come up while I get into it.  Oh, and go get Chow Yew to get that Chinese violin he plays, and I’ll hold it!  We’ll take ’em in the Japanese garden!” Emily would be quite fired with enthusiasm, but before the girls were upstairs she might change in favor of her riding habit and silk hat, and Susan would telephone the stable that Miss Emily’s riding horse was wanted in the side-garden.  “You’re a darling!” she would say to Susan, after an exhausting hour or two.  “Now, next time I’ll take you!”

But Susan’s pictures never were taken.  Emily’s interest rarely touched twice in the same place.

“Em, it’s twenty minutes past four!  Aren’t we going to tea with Isabel Wallace?” Susan would ask, coming in to find Emily comfortably stretched out with a book.