Part 18 (1/2)

”It didn't do any good--” began Maizie.

Mrs. Procter plunged in to prevent further discussion about the unfortunate dog. ”Do you think you can walk quite a distance, Mabel?”

she asked.

Mabel put her finger in her mouth.

”Don't talk to her right away, mother,” begged Suzanna. ”She's a little bit shy.”

So they went on, little Mabel contributing no word to the talk. They pa.s.sed fields full of yellow daisies and they walked by one group of gentle, cud-chewing cows. ”But I hope there'll be no cows in your woods, Suzanna,” said Mrs. Procter.

And her wish was granted. Indeed all, sky, flowers, breeze, absence of dust and curious animals, helped to make this a day of days. When they reached Suzanna's little patch of woods with many spreading oak trees that invited rest beneath their sheltering branches Mrs. Procter exclaimed in delight.

”Isn't it lovely, mother?” cried Suzanna. ”See, there's a tiny brook, too. I've been here often when I wanted to think of poetry.”

”And I've never had time,” her mother murmured.

”Now you just sit right down here with your back against this tree,”

Suzanna went on with a delicious air of protection, ”and I'll take care of the baby. Close your eyes, dear mother-love, and forget that G.o.d sent you a big family and that you've got to do your best by us all like you told Mrs. Reynolds last week.”

Mrs. Procter's eyes were suddenly overflowing. Children! How rare and fine a gift they were. How many truths they could teach! She sank down upon the gra.s.s and Suzanna put the baby down beside her, first spreading out a thick shawl.

Mrs. Procter caught the small loving hand within her own: ”I don't know, Suzanna; sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to do all I'd like to do for you all,” she said in a low voice.

”Why, mother, _you love us_!” Suzanna exclaimed. ”Don't you remember last Sunday when I put on my leghorn hat with the bunch of daisies over my left eye--”

”I remember,” said Mrs. Procter, somewhat at a loss as to the connection between thought and thought.

”Well, when I said, 'good-bye, mother, I'm going to Sunday School,' you looked at me and _smiled_ from your soul! And I forgot that there was Maizie and Peter and the baby, and I didn't even remember father, and I said to myself: '_That's my very own mother!_' Just as though we just belonged to one another with n.o.body else in the whole world.”

”Kiss me, Suzanna darling,” said Mrs. Procter, after a long moment.

Suzanna stooped and kissed her mother very tenderly.

”Now run away and play,” said Mrs. Procter, leaning against the supporting tree and closing her eyes, blissfully conscious that she could rest undisturbed for at least twenty minutes.

An hour later she opened her eyes and sat up straight. She had fallen asleep, though her position was not a particularly comfortable one, and slept sweetly, soundly. The baby still lay peacefully quiet, his little blanket covering him. And small bees had been working about her. Spread before her, reposing on a red table cloth lay a tempting meal. In the middle of the table cloth, to give an air of festivity, was a bunch of daisies. But most appealing of all to the mother was the sight of the four children, her own three and little Mabel, seated quietly near the table; they had evidently been there some time, waiting patiently till she should open her eyes.

”Oh,” cried Maizie, great relief filling her at sight of her mother stirring, ”Suzanna made us stay so quiet till you woke up, mother, and we're all awful hungry.”

”Yes, I want that fat sandwich,” said Peter.

And then they fell to eating with much laughter and gaiety.

”Out in the woods you don't have to pretend you hate to eat, do you, mother?” said Suzanna.

”Nor anywhere else that I know of,” said Mrs. Procter, smiling.

”But I don't like to see anyone eat as though he liked to eat,” said Suzanna. ”May I have two or three grapes, mother?”

She received her grapes. And quiet fell, while each did his best to clear the table. At length when the meal was concluded, and the basket repacked, and the pewter knives and forks carefully wrapped in a napkin, the children begged Suzanna for stories.