let the tears fall down my face. I cry in my heart sometimes, but never
out loud, on top. But I felt funny this morning because I wished we
didn't have to wash on Monday, and iron on Tuesday, and clean on
Wednesday, and bake on Thursday, and mend on Friday, and clean again on
Saturday."

"Well, ask your mother to wash on _Saturday_," the Eagle Man suggested
easily.

"Oh, I don't think mother would," Suzanna cried, in a little horror
herself at that idea. "She's awful set about washing on Monday. Still
I'll ask her if you say so, Eagle Man, because Saturday is kind of a wet
day anyhow. You see Saturday is just the shape of a big, immense, round
ocean. Shall I bring my mother over here to look at you?" suddenly
recalling the conventions.

"I don't think I'm fit to look at this morning," the Eagle Man
muttered.

"Oh, I think you are," said Suzanna, earnestly. "I like your shiny shoes
and your very high collar. I know mother would like you, too."

The Eagle Man looked down at his shiny shoes, hesitated and was lost. He
opened the carriage door, seized his cane and struggled to the ground.
"Now, let's see your wonderful family," he said to Suzanna, as he
hobbled forward toward the little group under the trees.

Suzanna looked up at him. "Oh, you're the lame and the halt, too! We
took Mabel along on our picnic because her eyes don't match, you know.
They don't seem to work together. We _are_ obeying the Bible today,