deliver verbatim Suzanna's message.

Suzanna sat on. From bitter disillusion felt against everything in her
world her mind chilled to analysis. Her mother loved her, she believed,
and yet--she did not complete her swift thought; indeed, she looked
quickly about in fear of her disloyalty. She had once thought that
mothers were perfect, rare beings removed worlds from other mere
mortals. Hadn't she, when a very small girl of four, been quite unable
to comprehend that mother was a mere human being? "Mother is just
mother," she had said in her baby way, and that sentence spelled all the
devotion and admiration of a pure little heart for one enshrined within
it.

And now mother had fallen short. Mother had disappointed that
desperately loving, intense soul. The tears started to her eyes. It was
as though on this second tucked-in day an epoch had come marking the day
for all time, placing it by itself as containing an experience never to
be forgotten.

After a time she realized she was hungry. So she went quietly to the top
of the stairs, but no sound came up from below.

Some clock struck one, and then Suzanna heard running footsteps mounting
the stairs. She sat straight and gazed out of the window. She knew the
moment her mother entered the room, but she did not turn her head.

Mrs. Procter approached until she stood close to Suzanna. She looked
down into the mutinous little face. She had come intending to scold,
but something electric about the child kept hasty words back.