"It runs from your wrist to mine. It stretches as you move, and it's
given to everybody as soon as he's born. Sometimes it's broken."

"Well, Suzanna," said Maizie solemnly, "then you've broken the silver
chain that ties you to me and to Peter and the baby and to daddy and
mother. You don't belong to us any more--you're an Only Child."

* * * * *

Maizie's literalness drew a new vivid picture for Suzanna. She had cut
herself from those she loved. She looked through a mist into Maizie's
face, the little face with the gray eyes and straight fine hair that
_would_ lie flat to the little head, and a big love flooded her. She
went swiftly to the little sister and lifted her hand. She made a feint
of clasping something at her wrist. "Maizie," she said, "I put the chain
on again. You are once more my little sister."

"Not just your closest friend, but your little sister, with a silver
chain holding us together?" Maizie asked.

"Always," said Suzanna. "I don't think after all that it's any fun to be
an Only Child."




CHAPTER III

WITH FATHER IN THE ATTIC