them.

She lay, her cheek pressed against his, for a long time. All the
thoughts that had raced through her upstairs in the sleepless hours
returned to her, but she had to struggle to find language in which to
tell them.

"Daddy," she began, "maybe The Machine can't work except where it was
born."

"Tell me all that's in your heart, little girl," he said.

"Well, we've all thought of The Machine, and loved it and believed in it
ever since I was the tiniest girl, and you've talked to us of what it
was to mean."

"All true, my child, all true."

"And The Machine stood there and listened, daddy." She released herself
from his clasp and stood very straight. Her dark eyes seeing pictures,
were brilliantly wide. Her breath came quickly from between her parted
lips: "And so it grew and grew, and soon out of its soul it sent colors.
And it loved the man who made it, and it loved his little children, and
made them all want to be good and do something for others.

"And then one day, they took it away from its home and into a big mill,
and men crowded around it and looked at it, but they didn't love it, and
they didn't believe in it. And it felt shy and hurt and the color stayed
in its soul and wouldn't come forth.

"And the man who had made it felt sad and he cried, and he took his
machine home. And then one day, years and years after when the man's
little girl, Suzanna, was a woman and she was out in the world trying to
do good, as her father had taught her, trying to make other people
happy, the colors crept out from The Machine again, all gold and purple
and rose and green, this time for everybody."

She finished, and with a great cry her father folded her to him. The
tears came streaming to his eyes, and quite frankly now he wept. She
felt the hot tears upon her face, they burned her, but she knew she had
helped him and she was satisfied.

They sat on in a wonderful silence. A distant clock struck one. They
heard the sound of quickly descending feet, and turning, Suzanna saw her
mother standing in the doorway.

"I heard voices," said Mrs. Procter.

"Come here," her husband said. She saw his face transfigured, and she
went to him and fell on her knees beside him.

"Courage--belief?" she questioned.

"Yes, they have returned," he said.

Suzanna spoke again: "Daddy," she said, in her eager voice, "I forgot to
tell you of a nice happening. You know when we were at the seashore with
Mr. Bartlett, John, the wait