esday, and bake on Thursday, and mend on Friday, and clean again on
Saturday."

"Well, ask your mother to wash on _Saturday_," the Eagle Man suggested
easily.

"Oh, I don't think mother would," Suzanna cried, in a little horror
herself at that idea. "She's awful set about washing on Monday. Still
I'll ask her if you say so, Eagle Man, because Saturday is kind of a wet
day anyhow. You see Saturday is just the shape of a big, immense, round
ocean. Shall I bring my mother over here to look at you?" suddenly
recalling the conventions.

"I don't think I'm fit to look at this morning," the Eagle Man
muttered.

"Oh, I think you are," said Suzanna, earnestly. "I like your shiny shoes
and your very high collar. I know mother would like you, too."

The Eagle Man looked down at his shiny shoes, hesitated and was lost. He
opened the carriage door, seized his cane and struggled to the ground.
"Now, let's see your wonderful family," he said to Suzanna, as he
hobbled forward toward the little group under the trees.

Suzanna looked up at him. "Oh, you're the lame and the halt, too! We
took Mabel along on our picnic because her eyes don't match, you know.
They don't seem to work together. We _are_ obeying the Bible today,
aren't we?"

Old John Massey did not answer, since he was intent upon covering the
ground with as little wear and tear on his nerves as possible, and so in
silence they walked till they reached Mrs. Procter, still leaning
against the tree, but now holding the baby in her arms.

Maizie, Mabel, and Peter all looked with vivid interest at the newcomer.

"Mother," began Suzanna, "this is the gentleman I told you about. He's
John Massey; you've seen him on Main Street. _He loves to be
comfortable._ And he doesn't work during the day, either, but he sits in
a chair and shouts at a little man, and the little man hops mighty
quick, I can tell you."

Mrs. Procter's face went crimson. "How do you do?" she said. She did not
meet his keen eyes.

"How do you do, madam," the Eagle Man responded. "Out for an airing with
your family?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Procter. "The children were all in a bad humor this
morning and so we thought we'd have a picnic."

"Oh, no, mother," said Maizie earnestly, "we weren't in a bad humor. We
just didn't like things at home."

"Well, we'll put it that way," smiled her mother, "and so Suzanna
suggested a picnic." Mrs. Procter attempted to rise.

"Stay where you are, madam," said the Eagl