Suzanna was full of her experience with the Eagle Man, and in spite of
her mishap she had greatly enjoyed her day. Hadn't the fierce one, the
one of the loud voice and cross face, been kind to her and helped her to
mend her slipper? And hadn't he told the housekeeper to give her a great
bunch of the purple grapes especially procured from the city for him,
she was told?

She thought of all this when she and Maizie left the low phaeton in
which they had been driven home. For some indefinable reason she was
elated, and excited--an emotion far above the usual happy fatigue felt
after a day of pleasure. She meant to tell her father and mother all
about her talk with the Eagle Man when the supper dishes were washed and
put away. She would show her father just how her toes had thrust
themselves through her slipper and how she had sat upon her foot till it
went to sleep. Not, however, till the setting was right would she tell
her story. Suzanna's unconscious dramatic sense rarely failed her.

At the supper table that night the baby fell asleep in his high chair.
Peter, after a hard day of play, was nodding in his place. Maizie,
replete after her third dish of rice pudding, was quiet; a little sleepy
too, if truth must be told.

It was then Suzanna told of her visit with the Eagle Man. She left out
no detail, from the time her stocking burst its confines to her
interesting intimacy with the Eagle Man.

"You told old John Massey, you say, Suzanna," said her father at length,
his eyes bright, "about my machine?"

Suzanna nodded. Then a little fear stole upon her. She slipped from her