The day was wonderful. A soft little breeze caressed the children and the sky overhead was like an angel's breast, thought Suzanna. But she did not say this, even to excited Maizie; she was gathering impressions and burnishing them with her vivid imagination. Once her gaze fell on Miss Massey's long, slender, tired-looking hands. Her mother's hands, Suzanna recalled, were tired-looking, too, but in a different way. Her 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, but with no success. As Miss Massey and the little girls walked on, Suzanna stopped and pulled the ribbon over the protruding toe, tucking in the ravelled edges. Mercifully, the ribbon stayed in place since Suzanna cramped her toe back that it might not force its way through again. Hastily hopping along, she entered the massive front doors held wide by a solemn man with brass buttons. He pointed down the wide hall. "To the right," he said. Would the ribbon hold! was Suzanna's only thought as she later found herself in a room called the library, with books and soft-toned pictures; with a great fireplace banked now with greens, from above which looked down the lovely face of a lady, Miss Massey's mother whom the daughter scarce remembered.