house with its stern demands upon her. Should she postpone her tasks
then vengeance in the double form of cleaning and baking day would
descend upon her tomorrow!

Then suddenly the truth pressed in on her--the children had rights upon
her time, her thoughts, her understandings, her sweetnesses! What if for
this week the window sills upstairs did remain unwashed, the rugs
downstairs stay unshaken? She stole a glance out of the window at the
one tree in the yard, green and gently swaying in the soft breeze, and
she spoke with the impulse of youth. "Well," she said, "where could we
go?"

"We could have it in the yard if you say so, mother," cried Suzanna,
mentally forecasting consent in her mother's question. "But I know some
lovely woods not very far away. We could push the baby in his cart."

The baby from his high chair gurgled joyously.

"And take lunch," said Maizie, brightening.

"And my baseball," completed Peter.

"Well," said Mrs. Procter, the brief spark that had lifted her dying,
"if I'm going to have grumbling all the time, something the matter with
each one of you, I might as well let the work go for once, I suppose."

But though the consent fell leaden in its delivery, it _was_ consent and
in a miraculously short time they were all ready to start away; even the
lunch basket was packed and the baby put into his carriage and wheeled
out to the front gate to wait till the entire family was assembled.