mother's, she decided after a time, were just plain tired-looking, while
Miss Massey's were a sorry tired, as though they missed something. They
were never quiet, always doing futile little things. And yet, Miss
Massey lived in a wonderful house and wore pretty dresses and hats with
gorgeous, real-looking flowers. Suzanna pondered unanswerable questions.

The driver, with the air of a brave knight, swept round the last corner.
He commanded his horses to stand still, when even the smallest girl knew
he would have to urge and coax for a full minute before the fat,
complacent animals would start again. But Suzanna liked his play. It was
in keeping with this wondrous event. She even forgave the driver his
wrinkled red neck, from which as she sat behind him, she had earlier
deliberately turned away her eyes.

The children sprang to the ground and stood looking up at the big pile
of stone, this great show house of the town. Miss Massey swung back an
iron gate and led the way first through an arbor, sun-shaded and
fragrant; then out again into a garden glowing with crimson flowers.
"The garden I love best," she said. This from simple, dear Miss Massey
into whose whole life no great color had fallen, or if there was once a
promise that life should blossom for her into a full, joyous thing, the
promise had fallen very short of fulfillment.

And just then the disaster befell Suzanna. There in the wonderful red
garden, a dire sound fell upon her ears and her eyes following the
direction of the sound were just in time to see one white toe burst
through the confines of the black ribbon lengthening her slipper.

She stood a moment, gazing down. Then in an agony lest the others should
discover her plight, she tried to draw the toe back within the slipper,