her mother never
thought of anxiety. At nine o'clock Eldress Abby took Susanna to the
laundry house, and there under a spreading maple were Sue and the two
youngest little Shakeresses, children of seven and eight respectively.
Sue was directing the plays: chattering, planning, ordering, and
suggesting expedients to her slower-minded and less-experienced
companions. They had dragged a large box from one of the sheds and set
it up under the tree. The interior had been quickly converted into a
commodious residence, one not in the least of a Shaker type. Small
bluing-boxes served for bedstead and dining-table, bits of broken china
for the dishes, while tiny flat stones were the seats, and four
clothes-pins, tastefully clad in handkerchiefs, surrounded the table.

"Do they kneel in prayer before they eat, as all Believers do?" asked
Shaker Mary.

"I don't believe Adam and Eve was Believers, 'cause who would have
taught them to be?" replied Sue; "still we might let them pray, anyway,
though clothes-pins don't kneel nicely."

"I've got another one all dressed," said little Shaker Jane.

"We can't have any more; Adam and Eve didn't have only two children in
my Sunday-school lesson,--Cain and Abel," objected Sue.

"Can't this one be a company?" pleaded Mary, anxious not to waste the
clothes-pin.

"But where could comp'ny come from?" queried Sue. "There wasn't any more
people anywheres but just Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel. Put the
clothes-pin in your apron-pocket, Jane, and bimeby we'll let Eve have a
little new baby, and I'll get Mardie to name it right out of the Bible.
Now let's begin. Adam is awfully tired this morning; he says, 'Eve, I've
been workin' all night and I can't eat my breakfuss.' Now, Mary, you be
Cain, he's a little boy, and you must say, 'Fardie, play a little with
me, please!' and Fardie will say, 'Child'en shouldn't talk at the--'"

What subjects of conversation would have been aired at the Adamic family
board before breakfast was finished will never be known, for Eldress
Abby, with a firm but not unkind grasp, took Shaker Jane and Mary by
their little hands and said, "Morning's not the time for play; run over
to Sister Martha and help her shell the peas; then there'll be your
seams to oversew."

Sue watched the disappearing children and saw the fabric of her dream
fade into thin air; but she was a person of considerable individuality
for her years. Her lip quivered, tears rushed to her eyes and f