ey, taking up the subject when the Superintendent had finished,
thought it might add to the brilliance of the affair if Suzanna were to
recite. So she gave Suzanna a sheet of paper printed in blue ink, with a
title in red. "The Little Martyr of Smyrna," Suzanna spelled out.

"You are to learn the poem by heart, of course, Suzanna," said Miss
Massey, "and if you need any help as to emphasis or gesture, you may
come to me on any afternoon."

Suzanna flushed exalted. "I don't believe I'll need any help, thank you,
Miss Massey," she said. She could scarcely wait then till she reached
home to tell her mother the great news.

"You'll have to study hard," said Mrs. Procter after she had read over
the verses, "but Suzanna, you have nothing suitable to wear."

"The lace curtain dress, mother?" asked Suzanna, hopefully.

"Beyond repair," returned Mrs. Procter.

Father, sitting near, looked around at his small daughter. "I have two
dollars that I couldn't possibly use. Take them for a dress, Suzanna."

"But, dear--" began mother, and went on haltingly about a pair of new
shoes she believed father had been saving for.

But father did not hear, and so behold Suzanna and her mother the next
day at four o'clock in the afternoon in Bryson's drygoods store deciding
upon a pink lawn and a soft valenciennes lace. And later, green cambric
for a petticoat. And then on Wednesday the cutting out of the dress with
suggestions and help from Mrs. Reynolds, the very kind neighbor across
the way. On Thursday, baking day, mother put in every waking moment
between the oven in the kitchen and the sewing machine in the
dining-room.

"Mother dear, don't work so hard," Suzanna begged once. She held the
fretful baby in her arms and tried to soothe him. He was always fretful,
it seemed, when mother was very busy.

"The dress must be finished this week," said Mrs. Procter, basting away
furiously.

"But there's two weeks yet to the festival, mother," said Suzanna, as
she hushed the baby against her shoulder.

"Next week, Suzanna, the bedrooms must be thoroughly cleaned, the
carpets taken up. O, please take the baby out into the yard and keep him
amused."

Two red spots burned on Mrs. Procter's cheeks. Suzanna saw them.
Ardently she wished mother would stop and rest. Such driving haste, such
tenacity, meant later a nervous headache with mother put aside in a
darkened room. Suzanna sighed as she took the baby out into the yard.

She put him i