between the oven in the kitchen and the sewing machine in the
dining-room.

"Mother dear, don't work so hard," Suzanna begged once. She held the
fretful baby in her arms and tried to soothe him. He was always fretful,
it seemed, when mother was very busy.

"The dress must be finished this week," said Mrs. Procter, basting away
furiously.

"But there's two weeks yet to the festival, mother," said Suzanna, as
she hushed the baby against her shoulder.

"Next week, Suzanna, the bedrooms must be thoroughly cleaned, the
carpets taken up. O, please take the baby out into the yard and keep him
amused."

Two red spots burned on Mrs. Procter's cheeks. Suzanna saw them.
Ardently she wished mother would stop and rest. Such driving haste, such
tenacity, meant later a nervous headache with mother put aside in a
darkened room. Suzanna sighed as she took the baby out into the yard.

She put him into his carriage and wheeled him about till he fell asleep.
Then she called Maizie to watch him, while she tiptoed back into the
dining-room. Her mother still sat, dress in hand. Now she was drawing
out the bastings. The red spots still burned.

"The baby's asleep, mother," whispered Suzanna. She longed ardently for
the return of the loved one who could laugh and say something funny
about sleep claiming the baby when he had made up his small mind to