dusted all the furniture very carefully. Maizie followed and stood
watching her sister.

"How could you make me better, Suzanna?" she asked, after a time,
curiosity elbowing pride aside.

"I meant to tell you a story," said Suzanna; "about something you've
never heard before." She went on dusting.

"Would the story make me a better girl?"

"Yes, and happier, too."

"Is it a nice story, Suzanna?"

"Awfully sweet."

"When could you tell me, Suzanna?"

"We'll go out into the yard after I've finished dusting and then I'll
tell you the story, Maizie."

"All right."

So when the dusting was accomplished, the children sought the back
yard. Suzanna procured a soap box, placed it beneath the one tree, while
Maizie drew another very close to her sister that she might lose no
word, and settled with keen anticipation to listen to Suzanna's story.

The day was hot, with scarcely a breeze stirring. Still, with the quiet