"Oh, no, my mother doesn't do that," said Suzanna, shaking her head.
"She just looks sad at first and sits and thinks and thinks and then
after awhile she says: 'Well, if everybody was thoughtful we'd all have
enough. But when some people waste, then others must pay the
piper'--'pay the piper'--I like the singing way that sounds, don't
you?"

"And who does she mean by other people?"

Suzanna smiled confidently: "Oh, she just says that; so no one really is
blamed, I guess. There really isn't anyone of that kind living; 'cause
nobody in the world could waste if they knew some children needed shoes
and some little boys' elbows stuck through their coats; would anyone?"

The man looked at her suspiciously. "Have you been listening to Reynolds
haranging on his soap box?" But seeing her innocence, he went on: "Well,
we don't know about those things. There's some reason why." He went on
more vigorously: "Of course, some people are privileged because they're
stronger; they've better judgment."

But Suzanna didn't understand that. She put the matter aside to think
over later, and, if she could remember the words, to repeat them to her
father for his explanation at a time when he wasn't hazy and far away
from realities.

"What does your father do?" Suzanna's companion resumed after a moment.

"He weighs nails in Job Doane's hardware store," said Suzanna, "and he
sells washboards to ladies. My father's a great man. He's an inventor!