her a
passion flower because with its deep purple, its hidden heart that she
could very gently discover and gaze into, it fitted into her mood.

Oh, to be big, grown up! All these brightly winged thoughts uplifting
her, some of which puzzled her, some that frightened her, she would
quite understand then! In those far-off years of absolute knowledge
there would be no limitations; no commonplaces, only miracles. You could
make what you wished then of all your days.

She came at last upon a little house lying far back from the road. It
was like a toy house, and had stood open for years. The Procter children
had often played in the rooms of the small house, and once when Peter
was a baby he had fallen down the stairs, and his twin Helen, anguished
because he was hurt, had cried piteously until they were home again.

Now Suzanna opened the gate, mended, she noticed, and hanging straight,
and started down the garden path. Lovely old-fashioned flowers--pansies
and phlox and pinks and balsam were all in their happiest bloom. Suzanna
wondered who watered and tended them. As she lingered beside a pansy
bed, the door of the little house opened and a rather frail little old
lady came out, followed by a maid who carried a chair that was filled
with pillows. She set the chair under a tree midway in the garden
between the house and the road. The old lady sank into it and the maid
deftly covered her with a large woolen shawl; then saying some word, and
placing a small silver bell on the grass within easy reach of the lady
in the chair the maid left.

Suzanna stood, unable to run. Someone then had moved into the tiny
house. And who? Suzanna knew everyone in the village of Anchorville, and
the old lady was a stranger. Suzanna gave up the question and started
back toward the gate when the old lady suddenly turned and saw the
child.

[Illustration: The prettiest old lady she had ever seen]

"Come here," she called, and Suzanna perforce obeyed. When she stood
near the small figure in the chair she waited, while she decided that
this was quite the prettiest old lady she had ever seen. The wavy silver
hair lying under a white lace cap, with two little curls falling on
either side made the blue eyes seems like a very little baby's at the
stage when they're deciding just what color they shall be. Like Suzanna,
the lady was dressed in white, flowing as to skirt, and trimmed with
quantities of fine old lace. On her hand was one ring, a love