Mrs. Procter caught the small loving hand within her own: "I don't know, Suzanna; sometimes I wonder if I'll be able to do all I'd like to do for you all," she said in a low voice.
"Why, mother, you love us!" Suzanna exclaimed. "Don't you remember last Sunday when I put on my leghorn hat with the bunch of daisies over my left eye—"
"I remember," said Mrs. Procter, somewhat at a loss as to the connection between thought and thought.
"Well, when I said, 'good-bye, mother, I'm going to Sunday School,' you looked at me and smiled from your soul! And I forgot that there was Maizie and Peter and the baby, and I didn't even remember father, and I said to myself: 'That's my very own mother!' Just as though we just belonged to one another with nobody else in the whole world."
"Kiss me, Suzanna darling," said Mrs. Procter, after a long moment.
Suzanna stooped and kissed her mother very tenderly.
"Now run away and play," said Mrs. Procter, leaning against the supporting tree and closing her eyes, blissfully conscious that she could rest undisturbed for at least twenty minutes.
An hour later she opened her eyes and sat up straight. She had fallen asleep, though her position was not a particularly comfortable one, and slept sweetly, soundly. The baby still lay peacefully quiet, his little blanket covering him. And small bees had been working about her. Spread before her, reposing on a red table cloth lay a tempting meal. In the middle of the table cloth, to give an air of festivity, was a bunch of daisies. But most appealing of all to the mother was the sight of the four children, her own three and little Mabel, seated quietly near the table; they had evidently been there some time, waiting patiently till she should open her eyes.
"Oh," cried Maizie, great relief filling her at sight of her mother stirring, "Suzanna made us stay so quiet till you woke up, mother, and we're all awful hungry."
"Yes, I want that fat sandwich," said Peter.