lay school with me this afternoon, Suzanna?"

Suzanna thought a moment: "I don't just know. I may go and play with
some of the other girls today, and, remember, if I do that a friend
can't get mad like a sister can."

Maizie began to whimper.

"All right, if you're going to act that way, I am going off to see
Drusilla," with which statement Suzanna turned and went downstairs.

Maizie came running down after her. "Mother, mother," she called loudly,
"I don't like Suzanna when she's the Only Child."

Mrs. Procter, busy with the baby, looked up. She was a little cross now.
"I wish, Suzanna," she said, "that you would learn to be sensible and
not always be acting in plays you make up."

Suzanna, who a moment before had bounded joyfully into her mother's
presence, now paused, the light dying from her eyes. She looked at her
mother and her mother, uncomfortable beneath the steady gaze, spoke
again with an irritation partially assumed.

"I mean just that, Suzanna," she said. "Maizie can't easily follow all
your imaginings; and I have enough to do without always trying to keep
the peace between you."

Suzanna stood perfectly still. The color rose to her temples, while the
dark eyes flashed. Waves of emotion swept through her. Emotions she
could not express. At last in a tense voice she spoke: "I wish I wasn't
your child, Mother."

"Go at once to your room," said Mrs. Procter, "and stay there till I
tell you you may come down again."

With no word Suzanna turned, went slowly up the stairs again, drew a
chair to the window and sat down. She was flaming under a bitter sense
of injustice. With all the intensity of her nature for the moment she
hated the entire world.

Time passed. She heard sounds downstairs, Maizie going out to play in
the yard with Peter; her mother singing the baby to sleep, and still
Suzanna sat near the window, and still her small heart beat resentfully.

Later, she heard her father's voice. Perhaps he cared for her. But even
of this she was not sure. Then she sat up very straight. Someone was
coming up the stairs.

It was Maizie. The little girl slowly opened the bedroom door, peeped
cautiously in, and then on tiptoes approached Suzanna. "Mother says,"
she began, "that you're to come down to lunch."

"I don't want any lunch," said Suzanna. The bright color still stained
her cheek. "You can just go downstairs and eat up everything in the
house, and be sure and tell mother I said so."

Maizie