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Updated: June 28, 2025
I'll let every day be a surprise." "Yes," said Mrs. Procter, "and a nice mix-up there'd be. You must have set times for every task if you expect to accomplish anything." "But isn't it 'complishing anything if you're happy?" asked Suzanna, really puzzled. Mrs. Procter hesitated. "But you can be happy working, too." "But I know, mother, that I'd be happier today out in the sun."
A few Saturdays after the marriage in the little wayside church, Richard Procter reached home in a state of great excitement. The family was in the dining-room. Mrs. Procter was polishing the drinking glasses. Though it was long past noon, Suzanna had just commenced to clear away the luncheon dishes.
"Anybody would get mad," Maizie exclaimed. "Why just yesterday when we were playing in the yard you said, 'Behold, the lion marcheth down the yard. Maizie, quick, quick, out of the way, and when I said, 'I don't see any lion, Suzanna, you said, 'Well, he's there, right beside you. Don't you hear him roaring? and there wasn't any lion there at all."
"And then many, many people are going to be happy ever after because my father thought of that machine and worked on it for years and years." After a moment Suzanna continued: "And my dear, dear Drusilla set off on a far journey and didn't come back. And Graham cried, and went away for a long time, and Bartlett Villa was closed. But they've come back now and it's open again.
She'll not want to go about in a carriage, or travel in a big train!" No one spoke. Only the scene painted so simply grew in the hearts of at least two there, so that Robert drew his promised wife a little closer to him and she glanced up in his face with eyes full of color. Suzanna went on. She had forgotten her audience.
A radiance came upon her, filling her eyes. She did not speak, only she held very fast to his hand, as though in the clasp she found an anchor. There came the glorious summer day marked for the journey to the seashore. Suzanna, Maizie, and Peter waited for the Bartlett carriage which was to convey them to the depot. At last they heard it coming.
Surely they were keen, yet behind their keenness dwelt a softness; perhaps he, too, once had cherished a vision. Graham greeted her demonstratively. "And this is my father, Suzanna," he said. "I've told him a lot about you." "Yes, I know a great deal about you, Suzanna," said Mr. Bartlett; "and David has told me of your father's invention and what he expects to do some day with it."
When they reached Suzanna's little patch of woods with many spreading oak trees that invited rest beneath their sheltering branches Mrs. Procter exclaimed in delight. "Isn't it lovely, mother?" cried Suzanna. "See, there's a tiny brook, too. I've been here often when I wanted to think of poetry." "And I've never had time," her mother murmured.
A rheumatic dart had seized him, had Suzanna known, but she could not know, and a little exclamation was drawn from her. At the sound, the other occupant of the room started and glanced around till finally his eyes came to rest upon the small girl in a large chair thrust well away in a shadowy corner of the room. "Well!" at length he ejaculated. And then: "Are you one of the Sunday School class?"
Maizie paused. She understood perfectly her sister's reference. "When the Man with the halo picked you out of everybody and smiled on you, you ought to be good to all little children that He loves," pursued Suzanna. "Not to little children who won't play and who won't be kind," said Maizie. But her voice was low.
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