"Why, my lamb," began Mrs. Reynolds, "not a bite gone down!"
Suzanna turned, a desperate little face she showed, eyes wide and appealing.
"I just couldn't eat, Mrs. Reynolds." No thought now of bestowing the beloved title.
"And the food brought fine to bed to you."
"Not even then."
"Well, come then, dear heart; you must be dressed. I put your clothes away neat and tidy."
Mrs. Reynolds opened a closet door and brought forth an armful of garments. Suzanna surveyed them as though they had no relation to her.
Mrs. Reynolds went suddenly and picked up the little figure, carried her to a rocking chair and with no word held her close.
"What is it, my little girl?" asked Mrs. Reynolds after a time, softly.
Her little girl! Suzanna winced. But she was Mrs. Reynolds' little girl now. Hadn't she broken all ties with the loved ones across the way?