s control broke. With a little cry she ran into her
mother's arms. "Oh, mother, mother," she sobbed, "I can't go away, so
far away and leave you--a whole month!"

Mrs. Procter held the small figure close. Her own eyes were wet, but she
spoke calmly:

"Why, little girl, mother will be here waiting for your return, and
longing to hear all about your good time. Come, dry your eyes and think
how happy you're going to be."

"But I know you'll be lonesome, mother, and so shall I be for you."

"But when you grow lonesome," Mrs. Procter whispered, "just think how
lovely it will be to return home; and remember that father's machine
will be given its great test before you come back. Mr. Bartlett and Mr.
Massey have made all arrangements."

Suzanna's face brightened; the clouds dispelled themselves, so she was
able to greet Graham with much of her old smile.

"All ready?" he cried as he ran up the steps. "Father and mother and a
maid are following in another carriage. Nancy is with us."

He was quite plainly excited by some thought deeper than the mere fact
of going to the seashore. Suzanna's companionship was promised for long
days to come; he knew her eye for beauty hidden from others; her quaint
speech. And then, too, a new relationship had come to pass between
himself and his mother. Between them an understanding that made him
glow.

It seemed but a moment before they were all together in the train.
Suzanna settled herself to look out of the window at the passing
landscape, so exhilaratingly new to her. Maizie sat beside her, Peter
across the aisle with Graham. Little Daphne was cuddled close to Mrs.
Bartlett. Mr. Bartlett was in the dining-car.

Maizie whispered to her sister: "We've come to the future now, haven't
we, Suzanna?"

"Why, you can't ever come to the future," returned Suzanna.

Maizie puzzled a moment. "But don't you remember, mother said we might
travel on a train some time in the future? So now we're doing it, why
haven't we come to the future?"

"Because you never can come to the future," Suzanna repeated. She leaned
forward and spoke to Mrs. Bartlett. "When you're living a day it's the
present, isn't it, Mrs. Bartlett?"

Mrs. Bartlett looked long at the two children. "Maizie thinks the future
an occasion, I think," she said, and then, because lucid explanation was
beyond her, she continued: "You know we have a big cottage at the
seashore, and the cottage is close to the water."

Maizie it was