f protection, "and I'll take care
of the baby. Close your eyes, dear mother-love, and forget that God 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 grass 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 nobody 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