"I can't see it, Suzanna," she said at length. "Do you think mother'd better take me to the doctor and have my eyes examined like Mrs. Reynolds had hers?"
Suzanna felt flowing over her a sudden wave of pity. "No, Maizie, dear," she said, putting her arms about Maizie and drawing her close. "Maybe I see the rose with something inside of me. But never mind, lamb girl—isn't that pretty, Mrs. Reynolds calls me that—the rose has gone home again. Listen close and I'll tell you the story that was left out of the Bible, just as the rose told it to me."
Maizie settled herself again, expectantly.
"This will be told, Maizie, in the way the Bible is written. Funny words that we don't know the meaning of, but can guess; terrible threats."
"Oh, don't," cried Maizie, "don't, I don't want 'terrible threats.' It sounds awful."
"Well, then," conceded Suzanna, "I'll leave out the terrible threats, Maizie. Now I'm beginning:
"There came to the city of Jerusalem one day a Little Boy with a halo on His head. It was on a Monday that he came. The mothers were all washing and those that were not washing, behold, they were hanging clothes out in the yard, and as He walked He carried a message, and His message was this: 'Beware of green tea, handsome to the eye, but destructive to the human system.'"
Maizie's memory was pricked wide awake. "Why, that's written on mother's tea canister, and you read it aloud a thousand times one day," she cried.
"That saying has come down the ages," responded Suzanna quickly. "And any more breaking-in and I'll not tell the story."
Maizie subsided, and Suzanna continued.