Mrs. Procter locked the doors, ran across the street to ask Mrs.
Reynolds to buy certain vegetables from a daily huckster and then away
they all went down the wide white road to the woods.

Soon the joy and beauty of the day stole into Mrs. Procter's heart. She
breathed in the invigorating air deeply. Cares seemed to fall from her.
Materialities were banished into the background. She looked at her
children as they went singing down the road. She had meant to bind them
to sordid tasks within four walls when a jewel of a day beckoned to all!
She visualized her house clean and in perfect order, but the children
cross, she herself irritable and tired out, and wondering a little bit
about the meaning of things. Was it worth while to let inflexible rules
remain victors at such a cost. She knew a sudden thrill of gratitude for
Suzanna, who had suggested the outing, and putting out her hand she
drew the little girl to her.

Suzanna looked up. She caught the deep and tender look in her mother's
face, so she voiced a plea which had been in her heart, but kept from
utterance in fear that she might ask too much.

"Mother, if we're going on a real picnic we ought to take the lame and
the halt with us. And I know a little girl who has cross eyes, and she's
a weeny bit pigeon-toed. She's the lame and the halt, isn't she? Because
when she looks at me I never think she is looking at me. I tried to
teach her one day how to look straight but it wouldn't do. Could I
invite her, do you think?"

"Where does she live?"