t you were that
little baby_, and Jesus smiled at _you_ to wake you up."

Maizie did not speak. Her eyes were shining, her lips trembling. Her
small soul was touched to its depths. After a long time in a whisper she
spoke: "Oh, was I really the baby that made Jesus smile? I'm happy,
Suzanna, but--it hurts me, too--"

Suzanna put her arms about her sister. The emotions she had aroused in
that little sister warmed her, thrilled her through and through. They
sat on in silence. Soon a question began to puzzle Maizie. She gave it
voice. "I didn't know I'd been a baby more than once, Suzanna."

"You're a baby every hundred years," said Suzanna promptly.

"Oh, I see." Then: "I do love Him now, Suzanna. I'll always love Him
'cause once He woke me up. Suzanna, do you think the rose will come to
you and tell you another story?"

Suzanna believed the rose might.

CHAPTER X

A PICNIC IN THE WOODS

For days Maizie lived in the sanctity of the thought that the Master of
all had smiled at her. But even so marvelous an occurrence, so sweet a
marking out of her above all the children in the world, failed
completely on one occasion to help her overcome a mood of sullenness.

She awoke late one morning, and found that Suzanna had arisen and gone
down stairs. She heard sounds indicating breakfast, but there was a
little dull feeling at her heart. Her customary joyous anticipation of
living a whole day, ripe with possibilities, was quite absent. She
decided to remain in bed, but at her mother's voice calling her name she
was prompted to put out one small foot, then the other, and soon, as
another call came up peremptorily, she went lazily ahead dressing
herself.

Ready then for the day, she went to the window and looked out. The sky
was hazy, with little dull clouds floating on its breast. From far away
came grumbles of thunder. Over to the east the sky seemed to open in a
long thin path of vivid light and then close again, leaving the heavens
gray, bleak. Maizie wanted to cry; it was with an effort she controlled
her tears.

At last, languidly she moved from the window, went down the stairs,
through the tiny hall and into the dining-room, her little face downcast
still, with no smile lightening it to greet the other children. Suzanna
and Peter sat at the table awaiting the laggard.

"Father had to leave early this morning, Maizie," said Suzanna at once.
"He ate his breakfast all alone."

Maizie did not answer; sile