Maizie, however, was tenacious. "Mother, you know at times even when things have all gone wrong you've laughed at something the baby did," she said looking up from her work. "Yes, I know," put in Suzanna, as though Maizie had spoken to her. "But mother doesn't have to go round turning water into wine and doing lots of other wonderful things." "Well, I wish He had smiled," Maizie persisted. Suzanna looked searchingly at her sister. "Why do you wish that, Maizie?" she asked. "Oh, I'd think then He was more like a big brother," said Maizie. "Now, sometimes I kind of feel afraid of Him." "If you didn't feel afraid of Him, Maizie," Suzanna asked, turning back to the cold stove and vigorously polishing away, "do you think you'd be a better girl?" Maizie flushed resentfully. "I'm good enough now," she answered. "But you get mad for nothing, Maizie," said Suzanna; "you always get mad when you don't see things." "Anybody would get mad," Maizie exclaimed. "Why just yesterday when we were playing in the yard you said, 'Behold, the lion marcheth down the yard. Maizie, quick, quick, out of the way,' and when I said, 'I don't see any lion, Suzanna,' you said, 'Well, he's there, right beside you. Don't you hear him roaring?' and there wasn't any lion there at all." "Well, Maizie, you can't see anything unless it's there," deplored Suzanna. "You mean, Suzanna," put in Mrs. Procter as she covered the dough with a snowy cloth, "that you have more imagination than Maizie." "Well, anyway, Maizie," said Suzanna after a time, "I'm going to try and make you a better girl." "Make her stop saying that, mother," said Maizie, "I'm good enough as it is." Suzanna said nothing more then. She finished her stove, and then, when Maizie had peeled all the potatoes, Suzanna went into the parlor and dusted all the furniture very carefully. Maizie followed and stood watching her sister. "How could you make me better, Suzanna?" she asked, after a time, curiosity elbowing pride aside. "I meant to tell you a story," said Suzanna; "about something you've never heard before." She went on dusting. "Would the story make me a better girl?" "Yes, and happier, too." "Is it a nice story, Suzanna?" "Awfully sweet." "When could you tell me, Suzanna?" "We'll go out into the yard after I've finished dusting and then I'll tell you the story, Maizie." "All right." So when the dusting was accomplished, the children sought the back yard. Suzanna procured a soap box, placed it beneath the one tree, while Maizie drew another very close to her sister that she might lose no word, and settled with keen anticipation to listen to Suzanna's story. The day was hot, with scarcely a breeze stirring. Still, with the quiet there was a freshness in the air that made the children draw in deep breaths. Suzanna began very softly: "Maizie, do you see that big rose nodding near the fence over there at Mrs. Reynolds'?" Yes, Maizie saw the rose.