Fearful that she had hurt Mrs. Reynolds by her confession, she put out
her hand and stroked the capable hand lying near.

But Mrs. Reynolds wasn't hurt. She was smiling. "Well, it's a hard thing
at times to learn to put one wish in place of another. But I guess life
teaches you that; it hurries you forward so you have to put wish on
wish." She stood up. "And now, the morning's well started, Suzanna.
Dress quickly and come down to a warm breakfast."

She raised the tray and Suzanna knew that now she was hungry.

"Come down when you're ready, my wee bit girl," said Mrs. Reynolds, as
she left, carrying the tray with her.

So Suzanna in a short time descended. How restful the house was; no
insistent voices of children, no clattering of dishes.

"It's so quiet and nice here, Mrs. Reynolds," said Suzanna, as she
entered the kitchen. "At home there's lots of talking and sometimes the
baby cries."

"Do you like quiet, Suzanna?"

"Ye-es," Suzanna stammered. A recurrent attack of homesickness was upon
her; that dreadful pulling of the heartstrings; that sinking feeling
that she had cut herself loose from all to whom she belonged rightfully.

She stood still watching Mrs. Reynolds who was busy at the stove. She
admired the deftness with which an egg was broken and dropped into