m
your work, or your play. Ball for you, I suppose, Peter, since it is
Saturday afternoon," he finished facetiously. Well he knew the
fascination of the attic and its wonder Machine.

And Peter didn't answer. Let father have his joke; they both understood.

Father went singing joyfully up the stairs. The children listened till
they heard the attic door close, then all was silent.

Suzanna found a book, and at Maizie's earnest request read a chapter
from it aloud, while Peter descended into the cellar on business of his
own.

"I'd rather you'd tell me a story of your own, Suzanna," said Maizie,
when the chapter was concluded.

"Well, I can't make up stories today," said Suzanna. "Today is father's
day, and I'm thinking every minute of The Machine."

"It's going to be a great thing, isn't it, Suzanna?" said Maizie, in an
awed voice.

"Yes, and nobody in the world could have made it but our father," said
Suzanna solemnly. "Father was made to do that work, and the whole world
will be better because of his invention."

"The whole outside world?" asked Maizie, "or just Anchorville?"

"Oh, the whole world," said Suzanna, and then as Peter once more made
his appearance: "Peter, take your tie out of your mouth. Father may call
us upstairs at any moment, and you must look as nice as nice can be."

Peter obediently removed his tie from between his teeth, and just then
the awaited summons came.

"Children! You may come up and bring mother."

Suzanna ran out into the kitchen. Mother had her hands in a pan of dough
and was kneading vigorously. She looked up at Suzanna's message and
replied: "You children run up to father; I'll come when I can. Go
quietly by the bedroom door, the baby's asleep."

Upstairs then the children flew. At the top they paused and looked in.
Father was standing close to The Machine; he turned as they appeared,
and with a princely gesture (Suzanna's private term), invited them in.

The attic was dimly lit. Shadows seemed to lurk in its corners. It was
an attic in name only, since it held no stored treasures of former days.
It stood consecrated to a great endeavor. The children knew that, and
instinctively paused at the threshold. They got the sense that big
thoughts filled this room, big ambitions for Man.

They approached and paused before The Machine. It stood high,
cabinet-shaped, of brilliantly polished wood whose surface seemed to
catch and hold soft, rosy lights from out the shadows. Abo