little
girl now. Hadn't she broken all ties with the loved ones across the way?

She tried to find comfort in Mrs. Reynolds' joy. "I am your little girl,
aren't I?" she asked softly, calling valiantly on her sense of justice.

Mrs. Reynolds looked searchingly into Suzanna's face. With no child of
her own, she was still a mother-at-heart. She was full of understanding.

"As much, my own lassie," she answered, "as any other woman's child can
be. You see," she went on after a pause, "there's a bond 'tween mother
and child that can't ever be broke."

"But I adopted myself out to you," said Suzanna, though her heart was
beating with hope.

"Yes, you did," admitted Mrs. Reynolds; "but you didn't at that break
the tie that binds you to your own mother. You could never do that,
Suzanna, lassie."

As Suzanna looked up into the kind face, new thoughts came surging to
her. She couldn't separate them, couldn't arrange them. They all jumbled
together, like vivid picture impressions, full of color and feeling. One
thought at length cleared itself, stood out.

Love and the chain binding you to those you loved was the biggest thing
in the world.

So she told Mrs. Reynolds about Drusilla's chain. And Mrs. Reynolds,
greatly impressed, said: "Yes, it's a blessed thread that holds us
together. Reynolds calls it the 'sense of brotherhood.'" Her voice
lowered itself: "He's a Socialist, Reynolds is, Suzanna." There was
pride and fear mixed with a little condemnation in her voice.

"A Socialist--it's a nice word, isn't it?" said Suzanna, settling more
comfortably into the hollow of Mrs. Reynolds' arm.

"And I'm going to see Drusilla, as you call her," said Mrs. Reynolds,
"and take her some of my crab jelly. I've seen her many's the time
sitting out in the yard with naught but a trained maid by her. Poor,
poor old soul, with a rich daughter-in-law."

"And a King that's gone to the Far Country," said Suzanna; "and she
longs for him. Oh, she's a lonely old lady."

"She must be that and all," said Mrs. Reynolds, wholly sympathetic.

They sat rocking then in silence. Suzanna was the first to speak.

"Mrs. Reynolds," she began in a low voice. "I think I'll dress now, and
after I've helped with the breakfast dishes I'll go and see my mother."

The heartbreak in the small voice touched Mrs. Reynolds deeply. "Why,
small lass," she cried: "You mustn't think I'll hold you to your giving
yourself away to me. No, not even for a bit of tim