Together they evolved, worked, tried on, completed.

"It's more fun doing this than going to Bryson's and buying a new pair,
isn't it, mother?"

"Well, I believe it is, daughter."

"I feel so warm here--" Suzanna touched her heart--"because we're doing
something harder than just going out to the store and buying what we'd
like."

Mrs. Procter gazed at her handiwork reflectively. "Well, it does make
you feel that you've accomplished a great deal when you've created
something out of nothing."

Mrs. Procter rose then, touched the new dress lovingly, and said: "So,
we can put it away now, Suzanna; it's quite finished. The petticoat
needs just a button and buttonhole."

Suzanna stood quite still. At last she looked up into her mother's face
and put her question: "When will you begin to cut the goods out from
under the lace, mother?"

Mrs. Procter, her thoughts now supperward, spoke abstractedly: "Oh,
we'll not do that."

There was a silence, while the room suddenly whirled for Suzanna.
Recovering from the dizziness, with eyes large and black and her face
very pale, Suzanna gazed unbelievingly at her mother. For a moment she