In the night a far reaching understanding had come to her. It came out of her conclusion to strike a blow at the child's oversensitiveness by a full dose of ridicule; by accusing her of affectation, a clever playing to the gallery; this when the night was early, and the mother still aching with weariness from the day's many tasks. And then as the hours wore on, and the quiet soothed her weary nerves, the knowledge came, flashing out of the ether, as often it does for serious mothers, that the gift of keen sensibility, of intense desire was too valuable to be quenched. What if Suzanna began to question her own motives; what if she should lose belief in her own spiritual integrity; learn in time to look in on herself with a spirit of morbid analysis instead of living out her natural qualities beautifully and spontaneously! All these truths stirred her again as she looked at her child. While Suzanna didn't move from her place, she wanted to stay at some distance that she might look her soul's full at her mother--_her mother_! At length she spoke: "Mother--I want to be your little girl again. Will you take me back?" Would she take her back? Mrs. Procter's arms opened wide. Into them Suzanna flew. Mrs. Reynolds regarded the cold poached egg, the second one spoiled that morning. Furtively she wiped the tears from her eyes. At last she cleared her voice and spoke: "I'll go upstairs and pack your bag, Suzanna," she said. CHAPTER VIII SUZANNA MEETS A CHARACTER That summer was a happy one, filled to the brim, as Suzanna often said, with joyful times. In her pink lawn dress with the petticoat after all showing through the lace, she recited "The Little Martyr of Smyrna" and brought much applause to herself. And then following close upon that happy occasion, Miss Massey invited her pupils to a "lawn party." Once again the pink dress was to see the day. "I'll be very careful with the dress, mother," Suzanna promised on the day of the lawn party. "Perhaps it'll wear just as long if I take extra care of it as though the goods weren't cut away." "Enjoy your dress," said Mrs. Procter. She had learned another truth which had sprung from the episode of the pink lawn. Economy might, indeed must dwell in a little home like hers, but sometimes, recklessly, the stern goddess must be usurped from her place. For the child love of beauty, the child's capacity for fine imaginings, could not be killed at the nod of economy. The children were both ready and waiting anxiously at the front window long before the hour. Maizie was the first to make her announcement. "Miss Massey's coming down the path," she cried. They all crowded to the window. Miss Massey, looking up, waved her hand gaily, and the children delightedly waved back. "Oh, Miss Massey, we're all ready for you," Maizie exclaimed at once as Miss Massey entered.