garments. Suzanna surveyed them as though they had no relation to her.

Mrs. Reynolds went suddenly and picked up the little figure, carried her
to a rocking chair and with no word held her close.

"What is it, my little girl?" asked Mrs. Reynolds after a time, softly.

Her little girl! Suzanna winced. But she _was_ Mrs. Reynolds' little
girl now. Hadn't she broken all ties with the loved ones across the way?

She tried to find comfort in Mrs. Reynolds' joy. "I am your little girl,
aren't I?" she asked softly, calling valiantly on her sense of justice.

Mrs. Reynolds looked searchingly into Suzanna's face. With no child of
her own, she was still a mother-at-heart. She was full of understanding.

"As much, my own lassie," she answered, "as any other woman's child can
be. You see," she went on after a pause, "there's a bond 'tween mother
and child that can't ever be broke."

"But I adopted myself out to you," said Suzanna, though her heart was
beating with hope.

"Yes, you did," admitted Mrs. Reynolds; "but you didn't at that break
the tie that binds you to your own mother. You could never do that,
Suzanna, lassie."

As Suzanna looked up into the kind face, new thoughts came surging to
her. She couldn't separate them, couldn't arrange them. They all jumbled
together, like vivid picture impressions, full of color and feeling. One