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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Marjorie's New Friend, by Carolyn Wells
+
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+Title: Marjorie's New Friend
+
+Author: Carolyn Wells
+
+Release Date: September, 2005  [EBook #8887]
+[This file was first posted on August 20, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND ***
+
+
+
+
+E-text prepared by Project Gutenberg Distributed Proofreaders
+
+
+
+MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND
+
+BY
+
+CAROLYN WELLS
+
+Author of the "Patty" Books
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "'HERE'S THE BOOK', SAID MISS HART.... 'HOW MANY LEAVES
+HAS IT!'"]
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+      I.   A BOTHERSOME BAG
+
+     II.   A WELCOME CHRISTMAS GIFT
+
+    III.   MERRY CHRISTMAS!
+
+     IV.   HAPPY NEW YEAR!
+
+      V.   A TEARFUL TIME
+
+     VI.   THE GOING OF GLADYS
+
+    VII.   THE COMING OF DELIGHT
+
+   VIII.   A VISIT TO CINDERELLA
+
+     IX.   A STRAW-RIDE
+
+      X.   MAKING VALENTINES
+
+     XI.   MARJORIE CAPTIVE
+
+    XII.   MISS HART HELPS
+
+   XIII.   GOLDFISH AND KITTENS
+
+    XIV.   A PLEASANT SCHOOL
+
+     XV.   A SEA TRIP
+
+    XVI.   A VALENTINE PARTY
+
+   XVII.   A JINKS AUCTION
+
+  XVIII.   HONEST CONFESSION
+
+    XIX.   A VISIT FROM GLADYS
+
+     XX.   CHESSY CATS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+A BOTHERSOME BAG
+
+"Mother, are you there?"
+
+"Yes, Marjorie; what is it, dear?"
+
+"Nothing. I just wanted to know. Is Kitty there?"
+
+"No; I'm alone, except for Baby Rosy. Are you bothered?"
+
+"Yes, awfully. Please tell me the minute Kitty comes. I want to see her."
+
+"Yes, dearie. I wish I could help you."
+
+"Oh, I _wish_ you could! You'd be just the one!"
+
+This somewhat unintelligible conversation is explained by the fact that
+while Mrs. Maynard sat by a table in the large, well-lighted living-room,
+and Rosy Posy was playing near her on the floor, Marjorie was concealed
+behind a large folding screen in a distant corner.
+
+The four Japanese panels of the screen were adjusted so that they
+enclosed the corner as a tiny room, and in it sat Marjorie, looking very
+much troubled, and staring blankly at a rather hopeless-looking mass of
+brocaded silk and light-green satin, on which she had been sewing. The
+more she looked at it, and the more she endeavored to pull it into shape,
+the more perplexed she became.
+
+"I never saw such a thing!" she murmured, to herself. "You turn it
+straight, and then it's wrong side out,--and then you turn it back, and
+still it's wrong side out! I wish I could ask Mother about it!"
+
+The exasperating silk affair was a fancy work-bag which Marjorie was
+trying to make for her mother's Christmas present. And that her mother
+should not know of the gift, which was to be a surprise, of course,
+Marjorie worked on it while sitting behind the screen. It was a most
+useful arrangement, for often Kitty, and, sometimes, even Kingdon, took
+refuge behind its concealing panels, when making or wrapping up gifts for
+each other that must not be seen until Christmas Day.
+
+Indeed, at this hour, between dusk and dinner time, the screened off
+corner was rarely unoccupied.
+
+It was a carefully-kept rule that no one was to intrude if any one else
+was in there, unless, of course, by invitation of the one in possession.
+Marjorie did not like to sew, and was not very adept at it, but she had
+tried very hard to make this bag neatly, that it might be presentable
+enough for her mother to carry when she went anywhere and carried her
+work.
+
+So Midget had bought a lovely pattern of brocaded silk for the outside,
+and a dainty pale green satin for the lining. She had seamed up the two
+materials separately, and then had joined them at the top, thinking that
+when she turned them, the bag would be neatly lined, and ready for the
+introduction of a pretty ribbon that should gather it at the top. But,
+instead, when she sewed her two bags together, they did not turn into
+each other right at all. She had done her sewing with both bags wrong
+side out, thinking they would turn in such a way as to conceal all the
+seams. But instead of that, not only were all the seams on the outside,
+but only the wrong sides of the pretty materials showed, and turn and
+twist it as she would, Marjorie could not make it come right.
+
+Her mother could have shown her where the trouble lay, but Marjorie
+couldn't consult her as to her own surprise, so she sat and stared at the
+exasperating bag until Kitty came.
+
+"Come in here, Kit," called Midget, and Kitty carefully squeezed herself
+inside the screen.
+
+"What's the matter, Mopsy? Oh, is it Mother's--"
+
+"Sh!" said Marjorie warningly, for Kitty was apt to speak out
+thoughtlessly, and Mrs. Maynard was easily within hearing.
+
+"I can't make it turn right," she whispered; "see if you can."
+
+Kitty obligingly took the bag, but the more she turned and twisted it,
+the more obstinately it refused to get right side out.
+
+"You've sewed it wrong," she whispered back.
+
+"I know that,--but what's the way to sew it right. I can't see where I
+made the mistake."
+
+"No, nor I. You'd think it would turn, wouldn't you?"
+
+Kitty kept turning the bag, now brocaded side out, now lining side out,
+but always the seams were outside, and the right side of the materials
+invisible.
+
+"I never saw anything so queer," said Kitty; "it's bewitched! Maybe King
+could help us."
+
+Kingdon had just come in, so they called him to the consultation.
+
+"It is queer," he said, after the situation was noiselessly explained to
+him. "It's just like my skatebag, that Mother made, only the seams of
+that don't show."
+
+"Go get it, King," said Marjorie hopefully. "Maybe I can get this right
+then. Don't let Mother see it."
+
+So King went for his skatebag, and with it stuffed inside his jacket,
+returned to his perplexed sisters.
+
+"No; I don't see how she did it," declared Marjorie, at last, after a
+close inspection of the neatly-made bag, with all its seams properly out
+of sight, and its material and lining both showing their right sides.
+"I'll have to give it to her this way"
+
+"You can't!" said Kitty, looking at the absurd thing.
+
+"But what can I do, Kit? It's only a week till Christmas now, and I can't
+begin anything else for Mother. I've lots of things to finish yet."
+
+"Here's Father," said Kitty, as she heard his voice outside; "perhaps he
+can fix it."
+
+"Men don't know about fancy work," said Marjorie, but even as she spoke
+hope rose in her heart, for Mr. Maynard had often proved knowing in
+matters supposed to be outside his ken.
+
+"Oh, Father, come in here, please; in behind the screen. You go out, King
+and Kitty, so there'll be room."
+
+Those invited to leave did so, and Mr. Maynard came in and smiled at his
+eldest daughter's despairing face.
+
+"What's the trouble, Mopsy midget? Oh, millinery? You don't expect me to
+hemstitch, do you? What's that you're making, a young sofa-cushion?"
+
+"Don't speak so loud, Father. It's a Christmas present I'm making for
+Mother, and it won't go right. If you can't help me, I don't know what
+I'll do. I've tried every way, but it's always wrong side out!"
+
+"What a hateful disposition it must have! But what _is_ it?"
+
+Marjorie put her lips to her father's ear, and whispered; "It's a bag; I
+mean it's meant to be one, for Mother to carry to sewing society. I can
+sew it well enough, but I can't make it get right side out!"
+
+"Now, Mopsy, dear, you know I'd do anything in the world to help you that
+I possibly can; but I'm afraid this is a huckleberry above my
+persimmons!"
+
+"But, Father, here's King's skatebag. Mother made it, and can't you see
+by that how it's to go?"
+
+"H'm,--let me see. I suppose if I must pull you out of this slough of
+despond, I must. Now all these seams are turned in, and all yours are
+outside."
+
+"Yes; and how can we get them inside? There's no place to turn them to."
+
+Mr. Maynard examined both bags minutely.
+
+"Aha!" he said at last; "do you know how they put the milk in the
+coconut, Marjorie?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Well, neither do I. But I see a way to get these seams inside and let
+your pretty silks put their best face foremost. Have you a pair of
+scissors?"
+
+"Yes, here they are."
+
+Mr. Maynard deftly ripped a few stitches, leaving an opening of a couple
+of inches in one of the seams of the lining. Through this opening he
+carefully pulled the whole of both materials, thus reversing the whole
+thing. When it had all come through, he pulled and patted it smooth, and,
+behold! the bag was all as it should be, and there remained only the
+tiny opening he had ripped in the lining to be sewed up again.
+
+"That you must cat-stitch, or whatever you call it," he said, "as neatly
+as you can. And it will never show, on a galloping horse on a dark
+night."
+
+"Blindstitch, you mean," said Marjorie; "yes, I can do that. Oh, Father,
+how clever you are! How did you know how to do it?"
+
+"Well, to be honest, I saw a similar place in the lining of the skate
+bag. So I concluded that was the most approved way to make bags. Can you
+finish it now?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I've only to stitch a sort of casing and run a ribbon in for
+the strings. Thank you lots, Father dear. You always help me out. But I
+was afraid this was out of your line."
+
+"It isn't exactly in my day's work, as a rule; but I'm always glad to
+assist a fair lady in distress. Any other orders, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Not to-night, brave sir. But you might call in, any time you're
+passing."
+
+"Suppose I should pop in when you're engaged on a token of regard and
+esteem for my noble self?"
+
+"No danger! Your Christmas present is all done and put away. I had
+Mother's help on that."
+
+"Well, then it's sure to be satisfactory. Then I will bid you adieu,
+trusting to meet you again at dinner."
+
+"All right," said Marjorie, who had neatly; blindstitched the little
+ripped place, and was now making the casing for the ribbons.
+
+By dinner time the bag was nearly done, and she went to the table with a
+light heart, knowing that she could finish her mother's present that
+evening.
+
+"Who is the dinner for this year?" asked Mr. Maynard, as the family sat
+round their own dinner table.
+
+"Oh, the Simpsons," said Marjorie, in a tone of decision. "You know Mr.
+Simpson is still in the hospital, and they're awfully poor."
+
+It was the Maynards' habit to send, every Christmas, a generous dinner to
+some poor family in the town, and this year the children had decided on
+the Simpsons. In addition to the dinner, they always made up a box of
+toys, clothing, and gifts of all sorts. These were not always entirely
+new, but were none the less welcome for that.
+
+"A large family, isn't it?" said Mr. Maynard.
+
+"Loads of 'em," said King. "All ages and assorted sizes."
+
+"Well, I'll give shoes and mittens all round, for my share. Mother, you
+must look out for the dinner and any necessities that they need.
+Children, you can make toys and candies for them! can't you?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Marjorie; "we've lovely things planned. We're going
+to paste pictures on wood, and King is going to saw them up into
+picture-puzzles. And we're going to make scrap books, and dress dolls,
+and heaps of things."
+
+"And when are you going to take these things to them?"
+
+"I think we'd better take them the day before Christmas," said Mrs.
+Maynard. "Then Mrs. Simpson can prepare her turkey and such things over
+night if she wants to. I'm sure she'd like it better than to have all the
+things come upon her suddenly on Christmas morning."
+
+"Yes, that's true," said Mr. Maynard. "And then we must find something to
+amuse ourselves all day Christmas."
+
+"I rather guess we can!" said King. "Well have our own tree Christmas
+morning, and Grandma and Uncle Steve are coming, and if there's snow,
+we'll have a sleigh-ride, and if there's ice, we'll have skating,--oh, I
+just love Christmas!"
+
+"So do I," said Marjorie. "And we'll have greens all over the house, and
+wreaths tied with red ribbon,--"
+
+"And mince pie and ice cream, both!" interrupted Kitty; "oh, won't it be
+gorgeous!"
+
+"And then no school for a whole week!" said Marjorie, rapturously. "More
+than a week, for Christmas is on Thursday, so New Year's Day's on
+Thursday, too, and we have vacation on that Friday, too."
+
+"But Christmas and New Year's Day don't come on the same day of the week
+this year, Marjorie," said her father.
+
+"They don't! Why, Father, they _always_ do! It isn't leap year, is it?"
+
+"Ho, Mops, leap year doesn't matter," cried King. "Of course, they always
+come on the same day of the week. What do you mean, Father?"
+
+"I mean just what I say; that Christmas Day and New Year's Day do not
+fall on the same day of the week this year."
+
+"Why, Daddy, you're crazy!" said Marjorie, "Isn't Christmas coming on
+Thursday?"
+
+"Yes, my child."
+
+"Well, isn't New Year's Day the following Thursday?"
+
+"Yes, but that's _next_ year. New Year's Day of _this_ year was nearly
+twelve months ago and was on Wednesday."
+
+"Oh, Father, what a sell! of course I meant this _winter_."
+
+"Well, you didn't say so. You said this _year_."
+
+"It's a good joke," said King, thinking it over. "I'll fool the boys with
+it, at school."
+
+The Maynards were a busy crowd during the short week that intervened
+before Christmas.
+
+From Mr. Maynard, who was superintending plans for his own family and for
+many beneficiaries, down to the cook, who was making whole shelves full
+of marvelous dainties, everybody was hurrying and skurrying from morning
+till night.
+
+The children had completed their gifts for their parents and for each
+other, and most of them were already tied in dainty tissue papers and
+holly ribbons awaiting the festal day.
+
+Now they were making gifts for the poor family of Simpsons, and they
+seemed to enjoy it quite as much as when making the more costly presents
+for each other.
+
+Marjorie came home from school at one o'clock, and as Mrs. Maynard had
+said she needn't practise her music any more until after the holidays,
+she had all her afternoons and the early part of the evenings to work at
+the Christmas things.
+
+She was especially clever with scissors and paste, and made lovely
+scrap-books by cutting large double leaves of heavy brown paper. On these
+she pasted post-cards or other colored pictures, also little verses or
+stories cut from the papers. Eight of these sheets were tied together by
+a bright ribbon at the back, and made a scrap-book acceptable to any
+child. Then, Marjorie loved to dress paper dolls. She bought a dozen of
+the pretty ones that have movable arms and feet, and dressed them most
+picturesquely in crinkled paper and lace paper. She made little hats,
+cloaks and muffs for them, and the dainty array was a fine addition to
+the Simpson's box.
+
+Kitty, too, made worsted balls for the Simpson babies, and little lace
+stockings, worked around with worsted, which were to be filled with
+candies.
+
+With Mrs. Maynard's help, they dressed a doll for each Simpson girl, and
+King sawed out a picture puzzle for each Simpson boy.
+
+Then, a few days before Christmas they all went to work and made candies.
+They loved to do this, and Mrs. Maynard thought home-made confectionery
+more wholesome than the bought kind. So they spent one afternoon, picking
+out nuts and seeding raisins, and making all possible beforehand
+preparations, and the next day they made the candy. As they wanted enough
+for their own family as well as the Simpsons, the quantity, when
+finished, was rather appalling.
+
+Pan after pan of cream chocolates, coconut balls, caramels, cream dates,
+cream nuts, and chocolate-dipped dainties of many sorts filled the
+shelves in the cold pantry.
+
+And Marjorie also made some old-fashioned molasses candy with peanuts in
+it, because it was a favorite with Uncle Steve.
+
+The day before Christmas the children were all allowed to stay home from
+school, for in the morning they were to pack the Christmas box for the
+Simpsons and, in the afternoon, take it to them.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+A WELCOME CHRISTMAS GIFT
+
+The day before Christmas was a busy one in the Maynard household.
+
+The delightful breakfast that Ellen sent to the table could scarcely be
+eaten, so busily talking were all the members of the family.
+
+"Come home early, won't you, Father?" said Marjorie, as Mr. Maynard rose
+to go away to his business. "And don't forget to bring me that big
+holly-box I told you about."
+
+"As I've only thirty-seven other things to remember, I won't forget that,
+chickadee. Any last orders, Helen?"
+
+"No; only those I've already told you. Come home as early as you can, for
+there's lots to be done, and you know Steve and Grandma will arrive at
+six."
+
+Away went Mr. Maynard, and then the children scattered to attend to their
+various duties.
+
+Both James the gardener and Thomas the coachman were handy men of all
+work, and, superintended by Mrs. Maynard, they packed the more
+substantial portions of the Simpson's Christmas donations.
+
+It took several large baskets to hold the dinner, for there was a big,
+fat turkey, a huge roast of beef, and also sausages and vegetables of
+many sorts.
+
+Then other baskets held bread and pie and cake, and cranberry jelly and
+celery, and all the good things that go to make up a Christmassy sort of
+a feast. Another basket held nuts and raisins and oranges and figs, and
+in this was a big box of the candies the children had made. The baskets
+were all decked with evergreen and holly, and made an imposing looking
+row.
+
+Meantime King and Midget and Kitty were packing into boxes the toys and
+pretty trifles that they had made or bought. They added many books and
+games of their own, which, though not quite new, were as good as new.
+
+A barrel was packed full of clothing, mostly outgrown by the Maynard
+children, but containing, also, new warm caps, wraps and underwear for
+the little Simpsons.
+
+Well, all the things together made a fair wagon-load, and when Mr.
+Maynard returned home about two o'clock that afternoon, he saw the
+well-filled and evergreen trimmed wagon on the drive, only waiting for
+his coming to have the horse put to its shafts.
+
+"Hello, Maynard maids and men!" he cried, as he came in, laden with
+bundles, and found the children bustling about, getting ready to go.
+
+"Oh, Father," exclaimed Kitty, "you do look so Santa Claus-y! What's in
+all those packages?"
+
+"Mostly surprises for you to-morrow, Miss Curiosity; so you can scarcely
+expect to see in them now."
+
+"I do love a bundly Christmas," said Marjorie. "I think half the fun is
+tying things up with holly ribbons, and sticking sprigs of holly in the
+knots."
+
+"Well, are we all aboard now for the Simpsons?" asked her father, as he
+deposited his burdens in safe places.
+
+"Yes, we'll get our hats, and start at once; come on, Kitty," and
+Marjorie danced away, drawing her slower sister along with her.
+
+Nurse Nannie soon had little Rosamond ready, and the tot looked like a
+big snowball in her fleecy white coat and hood, and white leggings.
+
+"Me go to Simpson's," she cried, in great excitement, and then Mrs.
+Maynard appeared, and they all crowded into the roomy station-wagon that
+could be made, at a pinch, to hold them all. James drove them, and Thomas
+followed with the wagon-load of gifts.
+
+The visit was a total surprise to the Simpson family, and when the
+Maynards knocked vigorously at the shaky old door, half a dozen little
+faces looked wonderingly from the windows.
+
+"What is it?" said Mrs. Simpson, coming to the door, with a baby in her
+arms, and other small children clinging to her dress.
+
+"Merry Christmas!" cried Midget and King, who were ahead of the others.
+But the cry of "Merry Christmas" was repeated by all the Maynards, until
+an answering smile appeared on the faces of the Simpson family and most
+of them spoke up with a "Merry Christmas to you, too."
+
+"We've brought you some Christmas cheer," said Mr. Maynard, as the whole
+six of them went in, thereby greatly crowding the small room where they
+were received. "Mr. Simpson is not well, yet, I understand."
+
+"No, sir," said Mrs. Simpson. "They do say he'll be in the hospital for a
+month yet, and it's all I can do to keep the youngsters alive, let alone
+gettin' Christmas fixin's for 'em."
+
+"That's what we thought," said Mr. Maynard, pleasantly; "and so my wife
+and children are bringing you some goodies to make a real Christmas feast
+for your little ones."
+
+"Lord bless you, sir," said Mrs. Simpson, as the tears came to her eyes.
+"I didn't know how much I was missin' all the Christmas feelin', till I
+see you all come along, with your 'Merry Christmas,' and your evergreen
+trimmin's."
+
+"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard, gently, "at this season, we should all have the
+'Christmas feeling,' and though I'm sorry your husband can't be with you,
+I hope you and the children will have a happy day."
+
+"What you got for us?" whispered a little Simpson, who was patting Mrs.
+Maynard's muff.
+
+"Well, we'll soon show you." said Mr. Maynard, overhearing the child.
+
+Then he opened the door and bade his two men bring in the things.
+
+So James and Thomas brought them in, box after box and basket after
+basket, until the Simpsons were well-nigh speechless at the sight.
+
+"How kin we pay for it, Ma?" said one of the boys, who was getting old
+enough to know what lack of funds meant.
+
+"You're not to pay for it, my boy," said Mr. Maynard, "except by having a
+jolly, happy day to-morrow, and enjoying all the good things you find in
+these baskets." Then the Maynard children unwrapped some of the pretty
+things they had made, and gave them to the little Simpsons.
+
+One little girl of about six received a doll with a cry of rapture, and
+held it close to her, as if she had never had a doll before. Then
+suddenly she said, "No, I'll give it to sister, she never had a doll. I
+did have one once, but a bad boy stole it."
+
+"You're an unselfish little dear," cried Marjorie; "and here's another
+doll for you. There's one for each of you girls."
+
+As there were four girls, this caused four outbursts of joy, and when
+Marjorie and Kitty saw the way the little girls loved the dollies, they
+felt more than repaid for the trouble it had been to dress them. The
+boys, too, were delighted with their gifts. Mr. Maynard had brought real
+boys' toys for them, such as small tool chests, and mechanical
+contrivances, not to mention trumpets and drums. And, indeed, the
+last-named ones needed no mention, for they were at once put to use and
+spoke for themselves.
+
+"Land sakes, children! stop that hullabaloo-lam!" exclaimed Mrs. Simpson.
+"How can I thank these kind people if you keep up that noise! Indeed, I
+can't thank you, anyway," she added, as the drums were quiet for a
+moment. "It's so kind of you,--and so unexpected. We had almost nothing
+for,--for to-morrow's dinner, and I didn't know which way to turn."
+
+Overcome by her emotion, Mrs. Simpson buried her face in her apron, but
+as Mrs. Maynard touched her shoulder and spoke to her gently, she looked
+up, smiling through her tears.
+
+"I can't rightly thank you, ma'am," she went on, "but the Lord will bless
+you for your goodness. I'm to see Mr. Simpson for a few moments
+to-morrow, and when I tell him what you've done for us he'll have the
+happiest Christmas of us all, though his sufferings is awful. But he was
+heartsick because of our poor Christmas here at home, and the news will
+cure him of that, anyway."
+
+"I put in some jelly and grapes especially for him," said Mrs. Maynard,
+smiling, though there were tears in her own eyes. "So you take them to
+him, and give him Christmas greetings from us. And now we must go, and
+you can begin at once to make ready your feast."
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am. And may all Christmas blessing's light on you and
+yours."
+
+"Merry Christmas!" cried all the Maynards as they trooped out, and the
+good wish was echoed by the happy Simpsons.
+
+"My!" said King, "it makes a fellow feel sober to see people as poor as
+that!"
+
+"It does, my boy," said his father; "and it's a pleasure to help those
+who are truly worthy and deserving. Simpson is an honest, hard-working
+man, and I think we must keep an eye on the family until he's about
+again. And now, my hearties, we've done all we can for them for the
+present; so let's turn our attention to the celebration of the Maynard's
+Christmastide. Who wants to go to the station with me to meet Grandma and
+Uncle Steve?"
+
+"I!" declared the four children, as with one voice.
+
+"Yes, but you can't all go; and, too, there must be some of the nicest
+ones at home to greet the travellers as they enter. I think I'll decide
+the question myself. I'll take Kitty and King with me, and I'll leave my
+eldest and youngest daughters at home with Motherdy to receive the guests
+when they come."
+
+Mr. Maynard's word was always law, and though Marjorie wanted to go, she
+thought, too, it would be fun to be at home and receive them when they
+come.
+
+So they all separated as agreed, and Mrs. Maynard said they must make
+haste to get dressed for the company.
+
+Marjorie wore a light green cashmere, with a white embroidered _guimpe_,
+which was one of her favorite frocks. Her hair was tied with big white
+bows, and a sprig of holly was tucked in at one side.
+
+She flew down to the living-room, to find baby Rosamond and her mother
+already there. Rosy Posy was a Christmas baby indeed, all in white, with
+holly ribbons tying up her curls, and a holly sprig tied in the bow. The
+whole house was decorated with ropes and loops of evergreen, and stars
+and wreaths, with big red bows on them, were in the windows and over the
+doorways.
+
+The delicious fragrance of the evergreens pervaded the house, and the
+wood fires burned cheerily. Mrs. Maynard, in her pretty rose-colored
+house gown, looked about with the satisfied feeling that everything was
+in readiness, and nothing had been forgotten.
+
+At last a commotion was heard at the door, and Marjorie flew to open it.
+They all seemed to come in at once, and after an embrace from Grandma,
+Marjorie felt herself lifted up in Uncle Steve's strong arms.
+
+"That's the last time, Midget," he said as he set her down again.
+"There's too much of you for me to toss about as I used to. My! what a
+big girl you are!"
+
+"Toss me, Uncle Teve," said Rosy Posy, and she was immediately swung to
+Uncle Steve's shoulder.
+
+"You're only a bit of thistle-down. I could toss you up in the sky, and
+you could sit on the edge of a star. How would you like that?"
+
+"I'd ravver stay here," said Rosy Posy, nestling contentedly on her
+perch. "'Sides, I _must_ be here for Kismus to-morrow."
+
+"Oh, _is_ Christmas to-morrow? How could I have forgotten that?"
+
+"You didn't forget it, Uncle Steve," said Kitty, "for I see bundles
+sticking out of every one of your pockets!"
+
+"Bless my soul! How odd! Santa Claus must have tucked them in, as I came
+through his street. Well, I'll put them away until to-morrow. They're of
+no use to-night."
+
+"Put them in here, Steve," said Mrs. Maynard, opening a cupboard door,
+for there was a possibility that the good-natured gentleman might be
+persuaded to unwrap them at once.
+
+Meantime Grandma was reviewing the small Maynards. Marjorie she had seen
+in the summer, but the others had been absent a longer time.
+
+"You've all grown," she said, "but I do believe I like you just as well
+bigger."
+
+"Good for you, Grandma!" cried King. "'Most everybody says, 'Why, how
+you've grown!' as if we had done something wrong."
+
+"No, the more there is of my grandchildren, the more I have to love, so
+go right on growing. Marjorie, Molly and Stella sent love to you, and
+they also sent some little gifts which I will give you to-morrow."
+
+The Maynards did not follow the custom of having their tree on Christmas
+eve.
+
+Mrs. Maynard thought it unwise, because the children often became so
+excited over their gifts and their frolic that it was difficult for them
+to settle down to sleep until "all hours."
+
+So it was the rule to go to bed rather early on Christmas eve, and have a
+long happy day to follow.
+
+But the dinner, on the night before Christmas, always assumed a little of
+the coming festivities. On this occasion, the table was decked with holly
+and flowers, and the dishes were a little more elaborate and festive than
+usual.
+
+"Ice cream, oh, goody!" exclaimed Kitty, as dessert appeared. Kitty's
+fondness for ice cream was a family joke, but all welcomed the little
+Santa Clauses made of orange ice, and carrying trees of pistache cream.
+After dinner a game of romps was allowed.
+
+Mrs. Maynard, Grandma and Baby Rosy did not join in this, but went off by
+themselves, leaving the living-room to the more enthusiastic rompers.
+
+"Fox and Geese" was a favorite game, and though there were scarcely
+enough of them to play it properly, yet that made it all the more fun,
+and Uncle Steve and Mr. Maynard seemed to be little, if any, older than
+Kingdon, as they scrambled about in the frolic. Then Kitty begged for
+just one round of Puss in the Corner.
+
+Kingdon and Midget thought this rather a baby game, but they willingly
+deferred to Kitty's choice, and the grown up men were such foolish,
+funny pussies in their corners that everybody fell a-laughing, and the
+game broke up because they were too exhausted to play any more.
+
+"Now to quiet down pleasantly, and then ho, for bed," said Mr. Maynard.
+So when they had recovered their breath, Mrs. Maynard and Grandma
+returned, Rosy Posy having already gone to her little crib. Mrs. Maynard
+sat at the piano, and they all gathered round and sang Christmas carols.
+
+The children had clear, true voices, and the grown-ups sang really well,
+so it was sweet Christmas music that they made. They sang many of the old
+English carols, for the children had sung them every Christmas eve since
+they were old enough, and they knew them well.
+
+Grandma loved to hear the music, and after it was over the three children
+were kindly but firmly requested to retire.
+
+"We hate awfully to have you go, dear friends," said Mr. Maynard. "We
+shall be desolate, indeed, without your merry faces, but the time is
+ripe. It's nine o'clock, and Christmas morning comes apace. So flee,
+skip, skiddoo, vamoose, and exit! Hang up your stockings, and _perhaps_
+Santa Claus may observe them. But hasten, for I daresay he's already on
+his rounds."
+
+Laughing at their father's nonsense, the children rather reluctantly
+backed out of the room and dawdled upstairs.
+
+But there was still the fun of hanging up their stockings, and then,
+after that nothing more but to hurry to get to sleep that Christmas might
+come sooner.
+
+Rosy Posy's tiny socks were already in place, and soon three more pairs
+of long, lank stockings were dangling emptily, and then, in a jiffy the
+Maynard children were all asleep, and Christmas Day was silently drawing
+nearer and nearer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+MERRY CHRISTMAS!
+
+The sun waited just about as long as he could stand it on Christmas
+morning, and then he poked his yellow nose above the horizon to see what
+was going on. And everything that he saw was so merry and gay and full of
+Christmas spirit, that he pushed the rest of himself up, and beamed
+around in a glad smile of welcome and greeting. As he gave a flashing
+glance in at the Maynard girls' window, his rays struck Marjorie full in
+the face and wakened her at once. For a moment she blinked and winked and
+wondered what day it was. Then she remembered, and with one bound she was
+out of bed, and across the room to where Kitty was soundly sleeping.
+
+It was a rule for the Maynard children never to waken one another, for
+Mrs. Maynard believed that people, both young and old, need all the sleep
+they can take, but Christmas morning was, of course, an exception, and
+patting Kitty rather vigorously on her shoulder, Marjorie called out,
+"Merry Christmas!"
+
+"Who?" said Kitty, drowsily, rubbing her eyes, as she sat up. "Oh, Mops!
+you caught me! Merry Christmas, yourself! Let's go and catch King!"
+
+Throwing on their dressing-gowns, and tucking their feet into bedroom
+slippers, they ran to their brother's room, but King, also huddled into a
+bath-robe, met them in the hall, and the gay greetings and laughter soon
+woke any one else in the house who might have been asleep. Nurse Nannie,
+with Rosy Posy, joined the group, and each clasping a pair of bulging,
+knobby stockings, flew to the nursery, where this Christmas morning
+ceremonial always took place.
+
+A bright fire was blazing in the big fireplace, and in front of it, on a
+white fur rug, the four sat down, while Nannie hovered around, ready to
+inspect and admire, as she knew she would be called upon to do.
+
+The big, light nursery was a delightful room, and with the morning
+sunshine, the shining yellow floor, white-painted woodwork, and bright
+fire-brasses, it seemed full of Christmas glow and warmth.
+
+Grouped on the rug, the children immediately proceeded to the business of
+emptying their stockings, and as the various things were pulled out and
+exhibited, everybody oh'd and ah'd at everybody else, and they all began
+to nibble at candies, and at last Christmas had really begun.
+
+The gifts in their stockings were always of a pretty, but trifling
+nature, as their more worth while presents were received later, from the
+tree.
+
+But there were always lots of little toys and trinkets, and always
+oranges and nuts and candies, and always tin whistles and rattles, and
+other noise-producing contraptions, so that soon the four grew gay and
+noisy and Nurse was obliged to pick up Baby Rosamond, lest she should be
+inadvertently upset.
+
+But perched in Nurse's lap, the little one waved a Christmas flag, and
+blew on a tiny tin trumpet, and quite made her share of the general
+hullaballoo. Marjorie had a new pencil-case, and some pretty
+handkerchiefs, and an inkstand, and a silver bangle, and a little diary,
+and some lovely hair-ribbons.
+
+And King was rejoicing over a fountain pen, a pocket-knife, a silk
+muffler, a rubber-stamp outfit, and some new gloves.
+
+Kitty had a little pocket-book, a silver shoe-buttoner, a blank-book, a
+pretty silk pincushion, and a bangle like Marjorie's.
+
+Baby Rosy had dolls and toys, and what with the candies and other
+goodies, there was a distracting array of Christmas all about.
+
+"And to think the day has scarcely begun!" said Marjorie, with a sigh of
+rapture, as she ate a cream date, at the same time twisting her wrist to
+catch the glitter of her new bangle.
+
+"Yes, but it's 'most half-past eight," said King, "and breakfast's at
+nine. I'm going to skittle!"
+
+He gathered up his new belongings, and with a sort of combination
+war-whoop and "Merry Christmas," he scampered away to his room. The two
+girls followed his example, and soon were busily dressing themselves and
+helping each other.
+
+Marjorie put on a scarlet cashmere, which, with the big red bows on her
+hair, made her look very Christmassy, the effect being added to by holly
+sprigs pinned on here and there. Kitty's frock was a sort of electric
+blue, that suited her fair hair, and she, too, was holly-decked.
+
+Then, after a hasty inspection of each other, to see that they were all
+right, the girls skipped downstairs.
+
+So expeditious had they been that not a Maynard was ahead of them, except
+their father, who had just come down.
+
+"Merry Christmas, girlies!" he cried, and just then everybody came down,
+almost all at once, and the greetings flew about, as thick as a
+snowstorm. Grandma Sherwood, in her soft grey breakfast-gown, beamed
+happily at her brood of grandchildren, and soon they all gathered round
+the table.
+
+"I wish Christmas was seventy-two hours long, said Marjorie, whose
+candies had not taken away her appetite for the specially fine breakfast
+that was being served in honor of the day.
+
+"But you'd fall asleep after twelve hours of it," said Uncle Steve; "so
+what good would it do you?"
+
+"I wouldn't!" declared King. "I could spend twelve hours having our
+regular Christmas in the house; and then twelve more outdoors, skating or
+something; and then twelve more--"
+
+"Eating," suggested his father, glancing at King's plate. "Well, since we
+can't have seventy-two hours of it, we must cram all the fun we can into
+twelve. Who's for a run out of doors before we have our Christmas tree?"
+The three older children agreed to this, and with Mr. Maynard and Uncle
+Steve they went out for a brisk walk.
+
+"Wish we could snowball," said King, as they returned, and stood for a
+few moments on the verandah. "It's cold enough, but there no sign of
+snow."
+
+"Pooh, you don't have to have snow to play a game of snowballs!" said his
+father. "Why didn't you say what you wanted sooner? You are such a
+diffident boy! Wait a minute."
+
+Mr. Maynard disappeared into the house, and returned with a large paper
+bag filled with something, they did not know what.
+
+"Come out on the lawn," he said, and soon they were all out on the brown,
+dry, winter grass.
+
+"Catch!" and then Mr. Maynard threw to one and another, some swift, white
+balls. They were really white pop-corn balls, but at first they looked
+like snowballs.
+
+The children caught on at once, and soon two or three dozen balls were
+whizzing from each to each, and they had the jolliest game! The balls
+were too light to hurt if they hit them, yet solid enough to throw well.
+
+To be sure, they broke to bits after many tosses, but the game lasted a
+half hour, and then Mr. Maynard declared that it was tree time.
+
+"Sounds like tea-time," said Kitty, as they trooped in.
+
+"Sounds a whole lot better than that!" said King.
+
+The tree was in the living-room. It had been brought in, and trimmed
+after the children went to bed the night before. So they had had no
+glimpse of it, and were now more than eager to see its glories.
+
+"Are we all here?" asked Mr. Maynard, as he looked over the group in the
+hall, awaiting the opening of the doors.
+
+"All but Uncle Steve," said Marjorie. "Why doesn't he come?"
+
+"We won't wait for him," said Mr. Maynard, and he gave a loud knock on
+the double doors of the living-room.
+
+Like magic the doors flew open, and waiting to receive them was Santa
+Claus himself!
+
+His jolly, smiling face was very red-cheeked, and his white hair and
+beard streamed down over his red coat, which was of that belted
+round-about shape that seems to be Santa Claus's. favorite fashion.
+
+His red coat and trousers were trimmed with white fur and gold braid, and
+his high boots were covered with splashes of white that _looked_ like
+snow. He wore a fur trimmed red cap, and big gold-rimmed spectacles. The
+latter, with the very red cheeks and long white beard, so changed Uncle
+Steve's appearance that at first no one seemed to recognize him.
+
+But they knew in a moment, and Marjorie grasped one hand and Kitty the
+other, as they cried out:
+
+"Hello, Uncle Santa Claus! how did you get so snowy?"
+
+"I came down from the arctic regions, my dears," said the smiling saint,
+"and up there we have perpetual snow."
+
+"It seems to be perpetual on your boots," observed King; "I'm sure it
+won't melt off at all!"
+
+"Yes, it's first-class snow," agreed Santa Claus, looking at his boots,
+which were really splashed with white-wash. "And here's little Miss Rosy
+Posy," he continued, picking up the baby, who, at first, was a little shy
+of the strange-looking figure. "This is the very little girl I've come to
+see, and she must pick something off the tree!"
+
+Rosy Posy recognized Uncle Steve's voice now, and contentedly nestled in
+his arms as he carried her to the tree. And such a tree as it was!
+
+It reached to the ceiling, and its top boughs had been cut off to get it
+in the room at all.
+
+The blinds had been closed, and the shades drawn, in order that the
+illuminations of the tree might shine out brightly, and the gorgeous
+sight quite took the children's breath away.
+
+The big tree was in the end of the room, and not only did sparkling
+tinsel rope deck the green branches, but its strands also reached out to
+the wall on either side, so that the tree seemed to be caught in an
+immense silver spider-web. Sparkling ornaments decked every limb and
+twig, and shining among them were hundreds of tiny electric lights of
+different colors.
+
+Many beautiful presents hung on the tree, without wrappings of any sort
+to hide their pretty effect, and many more gifts, tied in be-ribboned
+papers, lay on the floor beneath.
+
+Altogether, it looked as if the whole end of the room were a sort of
+glittering fairyland, and the children promptly agreed it was the most
+beautiful tree they had ever had.
+
+As Santa Claus held Baby Rosamond up to select for herself a gift from
+the tree, he held her so that she faced a big doll, almost as large as
+herself.
+
+"Oh, that will be my dollie!" she announced, holding out her little arms.
+
+The big doll was detached from its perch and handed to the child, who ran
+to nurse with her treasure, and would not be parted from it all day long.
+
+Then said Santa Claus: "Marjorie, next, may come and choose anything she
+would like to use."
+
+He offered his arm, and, with exaggerated ceremony, led Midget to the
+tree.
+
+She was a little bewildered by the glitter, and the variety of gifts
+hanging about, but she spied a lovely muff and boa of fluffy white fur
+that she felt sure must be meant for her.
+
+At any rate they were her choice, and Santa Claus gave them to her with
+hearty assurance that she had chosen well.
+
+Then he announced: "Next, of course, is little Kitty. Choose, my dear!
+Take something pretty!"
+
+Kitty advanced slowly. She knew well what she wanted, but she didn't see
+it on or under the tree.
+
+Santa Claus watched her roving eyes and then said: "If you don't like
+what you see, look around behind the tree!"
+
+So Kitty peered around, and sure enough, almost hidden by the strands of
+tinsel, there stood a bookcase.
+
+"I'll choose that!" she cried, in glee, and Mr. Maynard and Santa Claus
+pulled it out into view. It was the adjustable kind, with glass fronts,
+and Kitty had long desired just such a one for her room.
+
+"Isn't it beautiful!" she exclaimed, sitting down on the floor to examine
+it, and to imagine how it would look filled with story books.
+
+"Now, Sir Kingdon, approach," called out Santa Claus; "carefully scan the
+branches o'er, and help yourself from its ample store!"
+
+King came toward the tree, eying it carefully in search of something he
+wanted very much, yet scarcely dared hope for.
+
+But, half hidden by a paper fairy, he spied a gleam of gold, and pounced
+upon the dream of his heart, a gold watch!
+
+"This will do me!" he said, beaming with delight, at the fine time-piece,
+with its neat fob. It was a handsome affair for a boy of fourteen; but
+King was careful of his belongings, and Mr. Maynard had decided he could
+be trusted with it.
+
+Then the elder people received gifts from each other and from the
+children, and then everybody began to open bundles, and "thank you's"
+flew around like snowflakes, and tissue paper and gay ribbons were knee
+deep all over the floor.
+
+"I didn't know there were so many presents in the world!" said Marjorie,
+who sat blissfully on an ottoman, with her lap full of lovely things, and
+more on the floor beside her. Grandma had brought her an unset pearl.
+This was not a surprise, for Grandma had given her a pearl every
+Christmas of her life, and when the time came for her to wear them, they
+were to be made into a necklace.
+
+Uncle Steve had brought her a bureau set of ivory, with her monogram on
+the brushes, and the children gave her various trinkets.
+
+Then Stella and Molly had sent gifts to her, and Gladys and some of the
+other school girls had also sent Christmas remembrances, with the result
+that Midget was fairly bewildered at her possessions. The others too, had
+quantities of things, and Uncle Steve declared that he really had spilled
+his whole sack at this house, and he must rescue some of the things to
+take to other children. But he didn't really do this, and the Maynards,
+as was their custom, arranged their gifts on separate tables, and spent
+the morning admiring and discussing them.
+
+At two o'clock they had the Christmas feast.
+
+Nurse Nannie played a gay march on the piano, and Mr. Maynard, offering
+his arm to Grandma, led the way to the dining-room. King, escorting Rosy
+Posy, walked next, followed by Midget and Kitty. Last of all came Mrs.
+Maynard and Uncle Steve.
+
+The dining-table was almost as beautiful as the Christmas tree. Indeed,
+in the centre of it was a small tree, filled with tiny, but exquisite
+decorations, and sparkling with electric lights. The windows had been
+darkened, and the shining tree blazed brilliantly.
+
+The table was decorated with red ribbons and holly and red candles, and
+red candle shades and everybody had red favours and red paper bells.
+
+"I feel like a Robin Redbreast," said Marjorie; "isn't it all beautiful!
+Did you do it, Mother?"
+
+"Yes, with Sarah's help," said Mrs. Maynard, for her faithful and clever
+little waitress was of great assistance in such matters.
+
+"It's like eating in an enchanted palace," said Kitty. "Everything is so
+bright and sparkly and gleaming; and, oh! I'm _so_ hungry!"
+
+"Me, too!" chimed in the other young Maynards, and then they proceeded to
+do ample justice to the good things Ellen sent in in abundance.
+
+But at last even the young appetites were satisfied, and while the elders
+sipped their coffee in the library, the children were sent off to play by
+themselves.
+
+The baby was turned over to Nurse Nannie, and the other three tumbled
+into their wraps and ran out of doors to play off some of their exuberant
+enthusiasm.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+HAPPY NEW YEAR!
+
+"It's been a gay old week, hasn't it?" said Marjorie, on New Year's Eve.
+
+"You bet!" cried King, who sometimes lapsed from the most approved
+diction. "Wish it was just beginning. We had fine skating till the snow
+came, and ever since, it's been bang-up sleighing. Well, only four more
+days, and then school, school, school!"
+
+"Don't remind me of it!" said Marjorie with a groan. "I wish I was a Fiji
+or whatever doesn't have to go to school at all!"
+
+"Oh, pshaw, Midge; it isn't so bad after you get started. Only holidays
+make you so jolly that it's hard to sit down and be quiet."
+
+"It's always hard for me to sit down and be quiet," said Midge. "If
+they'd let me walk around, or sit on the tables or window-sills, I
+wouldn't mind school so much. It's being cramped into those old desks
+that I hate."
+
+Poor little Marjorie, so active and restless, it was hard for her to
+endure the confinement of the schoolroom.
+
+"Why don't you ask mother to let you go to boarding-school, Mops?" asked
+Kitty, with an air of having suggested a brilliant solution of her
+sister's difficulties.
+
+Marjorie laughed. "No, thank you, Kitsie," she said. "What good would
+that do? In the school hours I s'pose I'd have to sit as still as I do
+here, and out of school hours I'd die of homesickness. Imagine being away
+off alone, without all of you!"
+
+Kitty couldn't imagine anything like that, so she gave it up.
+
+"Then I guess you'll have to go to school, same's you always have done."
+
+"I guess I will," said Marjorie, sighing. "But there's a few more days'
+holiday yet, and I'm not going to think about it till I have to. What
+shall we do to-night? It's the last night of the old year, you know."
+
+"I wonder if they'd let us sit up and see it out," said King.
+
+"We never have," returned Marjorie; "I don't believe Mother'd say yes,
+though maybe Father would."
+
+"If he does, Mother'll have to," said Kitty, with a knowledge born of
+experience. "Let's ask 'em."
+
+"It's almost bed-time now," said King, glancing at the clock; "but I'm
+not a bit sleepy."
+
+The others declared they were not, either, and they all went in search of
+their parents. They found them in the library, with Uncle Steve and
+Grandma, who were still visiting them.
+
+"Sit the old year out!" exclaimed Mr. Maynard, when he heard their
+request. "Why, you're almost asleep now!"
+
+"Oh, we're not a bit sleepy!" protested Marjorie. "Do, Daddy, dear, let
+us try it,--we never have, you know."
+
+"Why, I've no objections, if Mother hasn't."
+
+Mrs. Maynard looked as if she didn't think much of the plan, but Uncle
+Steve broke in, saying:
+
+"Oh, let them, of course! It can't do them any harm except to make them
+sleepy to-morrow, and they can nap all day if they like."
+
+"Yes, let them do it," said Grandma, who was an indulgent old lady. "But
+I'm glad I don't have to sit up with them."
+
+"I too," agreed Mr. Maynard. "I used to think it was fun, but I've seen
+so many New Years come sneaking in, that it's become an old, old story."
+
+"That's just it, sir," said King, seeing a point of vantage. "We haven't,
+you know, and we'd like to see just how they come in."
+
+"Well," said his father, "where will you hold this performance? I can't
+have you prowling all over the house, waking up honest people who are
+abed and asleep."
+
+"You must take the nursery," said Mrs. Maynard. "I wouldn't let you stay
+downstairs alone, but you may stay in the nursery as late as you like. I
+daresay by ten or half-past, you'll be glad to give it up, and go to your
+beds."
+
+"Not we," said King. "Thank you, heaps, for letting us do it. We're going
+to have a fine time. Come on, girls!"
+
+"One minute, King; you're not to make any noise after ten-thirty. Grandma
+goes to her room then, and the rest of us soon after."
+
+"All right, we won't. It isn't going to be a noisy party, anyhow."
+
+"Then I don't see how it can be a Maynard party," said Uncle Steve,
+quizzically, but the children had run away.
+
+"Now, we'll just have the time of our lives!" said King, as the three of
+them reached the nursery.
+
+"Of course we will," agreed Marjorie. "What shall we do?"
+
+"Let's see, it's nine o'clock. We can play anything till half-past ten;
+after that we can only do quiet things. Let's play Blind Man's Buff."
+
+"All right, you be _it_."
+
+So King was blindfolded, and he soon caught Kitty, who soon caught
+Midget, and then she caught King again. But it wasn't very much fun, and
+nobody quite knew why.
+
+"It makes me too tired," said Kitty, throwing herself on the couch, and
+fanning her hot little face with her handkerchief. "Let's play a sit-down
+game."
+
+"But we can play those after we have to be quiet," objected King. "Get
+up, Kit, you'll fall asleep if you lie there."
+
+"No, I won't," said Kitty, opening her eyes very wide, but cuddling to
+the soft pillow.
+
+"Yes, you will, too! Come on. Let's play 'animals.' That's noisy enough,
+and you can sit down too."
+
+"Animals" was a card game where they sat round a table, and as occasion
+required assumed the voices of certain animals.
+
+"All right," said Kitty, jumping up; "I'll be the Laughing Hyena."
+
+"I'll be a Lion," said King, and Marjorie decided to be a Rooster.
+
+Soon the game was in full swing, and as the roar of the lion, the crowing
+of the rooster, and the strange noise that represented Kitty's idea of
+the hyena's mirth, floated downstairs, the grown-ups smiled once more at
+the irrepressible spirits of the young Maynards. But after they had
+roared and crowed and laughed for what seemed like an interminable time,
+King looked at his Christmas watch and exclaimed:
+
+"Goodness, girls! it's only half-past nine! I though it was about
+eleven!"
+
+"So did I," said Marjorie, trying to hide a yawn.
+
+"Oh, I say, Mops, you're sleepy!"
+
+"I am not, either! I just sort of--sort of choked."
+
+"Well, don't do it again. What shall we play now?"
+
+"Let's sing," said Kitty.
+
+So Marjorie banged away on the nursery piano, and they sang everything
+they could think of.
+
+"I can't play another note," said Midget, at last. "My fingers are
+perfectly numb. Isn't it nearly twelve?"
+
+"Isn't ten," said King, closing his watch with a snap. "We've only a
+half-hour more before we've got to be quiet, so let's make the most of
+it."
+
+"I'm hungry," said Kitty. "Can't we get something to eat?"
+
+"Good idea!" said King. "Let's forage for some things, and bring them up
+here, but don't eat them until later. After half-past ten, you know."
+
+So they all slipped down to the pantry, and returned with a collection of
+apples and cookies, which they carefully set aside for a later luncheon.
+
+"Only twenty minutes left of our noisy time," said King, with a
+suspicious briskness in his tone. "Come on, girls, let's have a racket."
+
+"There's no racket to me!" declared Kitty, throwing herself on the couch;
+"I feel--quiet."
+
+"Quiet!" exclaimed her brother. "Kit Maynard, if you're sleepy, you can
+go to bed! You're too young to sit up with Midge and me, anyhow!"
+
+This touched Kitty in a sensitive spot, as he knew it would.
+
+"I'm not!" she cried, indignantly; "I'm as old as you are, so there!"
+
+King didn't contradict this, which would seem to prove them both a bit
+sleepy.
+
+"You are, Kitty!" said Marjorie, laughing; "you're older than either of
+us! So you tell us what to do to keep awake!"
+
+It was out! Marjorie had admitted that they were sleepy.
+
+King grinned a little sheepishly. "Pooh," he said, "it'll pass over if we
+just get interested in something. Let's read aloud to each other."
+
+"That always puts me to sleep," said Kitty, with a fearful and
+undisguised yawn.
+
+"Kit! if you do that again, we'll put you out! Now, brace up,--or else go
+to bed!"
+
+Kitty braced up. Indeed, Kitty had special powers in this direction, if
+she chose to exercise them.
+
+"Pooh, I can brace up better than either of you," she said, confidently;
+"and here's how I'm going to do it."
+
+She went over to the big nursery washstand, and turning the cold water
+faucet, ran the bowl full, and then plunged her face and hands in.
+
+"Kit, you're a genius!" cried her brother, in admiration, as she came up,
+spluttering, and then made another dash. Soon Kitty's face was hidden in
+the folds of a rough towel, and the others successively followed her
+lead.
+
+"My! how it freshens you!" said Marjorie, rubbing her rosy cheeks till
+they glowed. "I'm as wide awake as anything!"
+
+"So'm I," said King. "Kit, I take off my hat to you! Now it's half-past
+ten. I move we eat our foods, and then we can have a good time playing
+parcheesi or jack-straws."
+
+They drew up to the nursery table, and endeavored to enjoy the cookies
+and apples.
+
+"How funny things taste at night," said Kitty. "I'm not hungry, after
+all."
+
+"You'd better wash your face again," said Marjorie, looking at her
+sister's drooping eyelids.
+
+"Do something to her," said King, in despair.
+
+So Marjorie tickled Kitty, until she made her laugh, and that roused her
+a little.
+
+"I won't go to sleep," she said, earnestly; "truly, I won't. I want to
+see the New Year come. Let's look out the window for it."
+
+Kitty's plans were always good ones.
+
+Drawing the curtains aside the three stood at the window, their arms
+about each other.
+
+"Isn't it still?" whispered Marjorie, "and look at the moon!"
+
+A yellow, dilapidated-looking, three-quarter sort of a moon was sinking
+in the west, and the bark branches of the trees stood out blackly in the
+half-light.
+
+The roads gleamed white, and the shrubbery looked dark, the whole
+landscape was weird and unlike the sunny scenes they knew so well.
+
+"I s'pose everybody in the house is abed now, but us," said King. He
+meant it exultantly, but his voice had a tone of awe, that found an echo
+in the girls' hearts.
+
+"Come away from the window," said Midge; turning back to the brightly
+lighted room. "Let's think of something nice to do."
+
+"I can think better here," said Kitty, dropping heavily on the couch, her
+head, by good luck; striking squarely in the middle of the pillow.
+
+"Kit," said her brother,--"Kitty,--you,--you go to bed,--if you--if you
+can't--"
+
+As King spoke, he came across a big armchair, and quite unintentionally
+he let himself fall into it. It felt very pleasant, somehow,--so much so,
+indeed, that he neglected to finish his admonition to Kitty, and she
+wouldn't have heard it if he had!
+
+Marjorie, by a strange coincidence, also met a most friendly Morris
+chair, which held out inviting arms. It seemed a pity to refuse such
+cordiality, so Marjorie sat down in it a minute to do that thinking
+they had spoken about. What was it they were to think of? Something
+about the moon? No, that wasn't it. Her new furs? Not quite;
+school,--Gladys,--cookies?
+
+These thoughts drifted confusedly about Marjorie's brain for a few
+moments, and then, with a little tired sigh, her curly head dropped back
+on the Morris chair's velvet cushion, and her eyes closed.
+
+How those three children _did_ sleep! The sound, hard sleep that only
+healthy, romping children know. When Mrs. Maynard softly opened the door
+a little later, she almost laughed aloud at the picturesque trio.
+
+But stifling her mirth lest she awake them, she called her husband to her
+side. After a few whispered words, they went away, and returned with down
+quilts and steamer rugs, which they gently tucked about the vanquished
+heroes, and then lowering the lights left them asleep at their posts.
+
+For an hour the children slept soundly, and then, at ten minutes before
+twelve the nursery door was softly opened again.
+
+This time, Mr. and Mrs. Maynard, accompanied by Grandma Sherwood and
+Uncle Steve, came in, apparently with the intention of staying. Mr.
+Maynard snapped on the lights, and the grownups smiled as they gazed on
+the faces of the sleeping children.
+
+"What time is it, Fred?" asked Mrs. Maynard.
+
+"Seven minutes of twelve."
+
+"Waken them, then. There isn't any too much time."
+
+So Mr. Maynard sprung a small "watchman's rattle." It made a pleasant
+whirr, but he was obliged to hold it near each child's ear before those
+deep slumbers were disturbed.
+
+"What is it?" said King, who first opened his eyes. "Kitty, you're
+asleep!"
+
+His last waking thought possessed him as his eye fell on his sleeping
+sister, he spoke before he realized that he had been asleep himself.
+
+"What's the matter?" he said, seeing all the people standing about, and
+noticing the rug over himself.
+
+"Nothing's the matter," answered his father, blithely, "only the New Year
+is hurrying toward us, and we all want to greet it together."
+
+"You bet we do!" cried King, now broad awake, and shaking himself out of
+his rug as he jumped up.
+
+Mrs. Maynard was rousing Kitty, and sat beside the half-asleep child with
+her arm round her, while Grandma was treating Marjorie in the same way.
+
+"It seems a shame," began Grandma, but Uncle Steve interrupted:
+
+"A shame to wake them? Not a bit of it! It would be a shame to let them
+sleep through a chance that they won't get again for a year! Hello!
+chickabiddies! Hello! Wake up! Fire! Murder! Thieves! Fred, give me that
+rattle!"
+
+Taking the noisy little toy, Uncle Steve sprang it vigorously, and was
+rewarded for his efforts by seeing the two girls at last on their feet
+and smiling broadly,--wide awake now, indeed.
+
+"Five minutes grace," said Mr. Maynard. "Out with your watches, you who
+have them. The rest look on with somebody else."
+
+Kitty ran to her father's side, and cuddled in his arm, as she looked at
+his watch. Marjorie saw Uncle Steve's smile inviting her, so she flew
+across the room to him; and King politely offered his watch to his mother
+and grandmother, saying the nursery clock would do for him.
+
+Care was taken to have all the time-pieces set exactly alike, and then it
+was three minutes of midnight, and they waited.
+
+"He'll come in at the window, the New Year will," said Mr. Maynard as he
+flung the casement wide open. "The old year is going. Bid him good-bye,
+children, you'll never see him again. Good-bye, old year, good-bye!"
+
+"Good-bye, old year, good-bye!" they all said in concert, and murmured it
+again, as the last seconds flew steadily by.
+
+"Happy New Year!" shouted Mr. Maynard, as his second-hand reached the
+mark, but he was no quicker than the others, and all the voices rang out
+a "Happy New Year" simultaneously.
+
+Then the village clock began to strike twelve, all the bells in the
+little town began to ring, some firing was heard, and shouts from
+passers-by in the streets added to the general jubilee.
+
+"Isn't it splendid!" cried Marjorie, as she leaned out of the window.
+"The moon is gone, but see the bright, bright stars, all twinkling 'Happy
+New Year' to us!"
+
+"May it indeed be a Happy New Year for you, my dear child," said her
+father, as he kissed her tenderly.
+
+And then everybody was exchanging kisses and greetings, and good wishes,
+and Marjorie realized that at last, she had sat up to "see the New Year
+in."
+
+"But I don't see how we happened to fall asleep," she said, looking
+puzzled.
+
+"I, either," said King; "I was just bound I wouldn't, and then I did."
+
+"You were bound I shouldn't, too," said Kitty, "but I did!"
+
+"You all did!" said Mr. Maynard. "Such sleeping I never saw!"
+
+"Well, it was lovely of you to wake us up," said Marjorie; "I wouldn't
+have missed all this for anything."
+
+"All things come to him who waits," said her father, "and you certainly
+waited very quietly and patiently!"
+
+"And now, skip to bed," said Mrs. Maynard, "and not until three hundred
+and sixty-five nights are passed, do we have such a performance as this
+again."
+
+"All right," said the children, "good-night, and Happy New Year!"
+
+"Good-night and Happy New Year!" echoed the grown-ups.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+A TEARFUL TIME
+
+The New Year was about a week old, and so far, had nobly fulfilled all
+hopes of happiness.
+
+To be sure, Marjorie had been obliged to begin school again, but as she
+had the companionship of Gladys Fulton, who dearly loved to go to school,
+it helped her to bear the trial.
+
+She had been to spend the afternoon with Gladys and was returning home at
+five o'clock, as was the rule for winter days.
+
+She turned in at her own gate-way, and had there been any one to see her,
+it might have been noticed that her demeanor and expression were very
+unlike the usual appearance of gay, laughing Marjorie Maynard.
+
+In fact, she looked the picture of utter despair and dejection. Her head
+hung down, her steps were slow, and yet she seemed filled with a riot of
+indignation.
+
+Her face was flushed and her eyes red, and though not exactly crying,
+great shivering sobs now and then shook her whole body.
+
+Once inside her own home grounds, she quickened her pace a little, and
+almost ran up the verandah steps and in at the door.
+
+She slammed it behind her, and though, I am sorry to say, this was not an
+unusual proceeding for Midget, yet she was truly trying to break herself
+of the habit.
+
+But this time she gave the door a hard, angry slam, and flinging her
+wraps anywhere, as she went along, she brushed hastily through the
+various rooms in search of her mother.
+
+But Mrs. Maynard and Kitty had gone out driving, and King wasn't at home,
+either, so poor Marjorie, her eyes now blinded with surging tears,
+stumbled on to her own room, and threw herself, sobbing, on her little
+white bed.
+
+She buried her face in the pillow and gave way to such tumultuous grief
+that the brass bedstead fairly shook in sympathy.
+
+"I can't bear it!" she murmured, half aloud; "I _can't_ bear it! It's a
+wicked shame! I don't Want to live any more! Oh, I _wish_ Mother would
+come home!"
+
+For nearly half an hour Marjorie cried and cried. Now with big, bursting,
+heart-rending sobs, and at quieter intervals, with floods of hot tears.
+
+Her little handkerchief became a useless, wet ball, and she dried her
+eyes, spasmodically, on various parts of the pillow-case.
+
+At last, in one of her paroxysms of woe, she felt a little hand on her
+cheek, and Rosy Posy's little voice said, sweetly:
+
+"What 'e matter, Middy? Wosy Posy loves 'oo!"
+
+This was a crumb of comfort, and Marjorie drew the baby's cool cheek
+against her own hot one.
+
+The child scrambled up on the bed, beside her sister, and petted her
+gently, saying:
+
+"Don't ky, Middy; 'top kyin'."
+
+"Oh, Rosy Posy, I'm so miserable! where is Mother?"
+
+"Muvver dawn yidin'. Wosy take care of 'oo. Want Nannie?"
+
+"No, I don't want Nannie. You stay here, little sister, till Mother
+comes."
+
+"Ess. Wosy 'tay wiv Middy. Dear Middy."
+
+The loving baby cuddled up to her sister, and smoothed back the tangled
+curls with her soft little hand, until exhausted Marjorie, quite worn out
+with her turbulent storm of tears, fell asleep.
+
+And here Mrs. Maynard found them, as, coming in soon, she went in search
+of her eldest daughter.
+
+"Why, Baby," she said; "what's the matter? Is Marjorie sick?"
+
+"No," said Rosamond, holding up a tiny finger. "She's aseep. She kied and
+kied, Middy did, an' nen she went seepy-by, all herself."
+
+"Cried!" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard, looking at Midget's swollen,
+tear-stained face. "What was she crying about?"
+
+"I donno," answered Rosy, "but she feeled awful bad 'bout somefin'."
+
+"I should think she did! You run away to Nurse, darling; you were good
+Baby to take care of Midget, but, now, run away and leave her to Mother."
+
+Mrs. Maynard brought some cool water and bathed the flushed little face,
+and then sprinkling some violet water on a handkerchief she laid it
+lightly across Midget's brow. After a time the child woke, and found her
+mother sitting beside her.
+
+"Oh, Mother!" she cried; "oh, Mother!"
+
+"What is it, dearie?" said Mrs. Maynard, putting her arms round Marjorie.
+"Tell Mother, and we'll make it all right, somehow."
+
+She was quite sure Miss Mischief had been up to some prank, which had
+turned out disastrously. But it must have been a serious one, and perhaps
+there were grave consequences to be met.
+
+"Oh, Mother, it's the most dreadful thing!" Here Marjorie's sobs broke
+out afresh, and she really couldn't speak coherently.
+
+"Never mind," said Mrs. Maynard, gently, fearing the excitable child
+would fly into hysterics. "Never mind it to-night. Tell me about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"N-no,--I w-want to tell you now,--only,--I c-can't talk. Oh, Mother,
+what shall I d-do? G-Gladys--"
+
+"Yes, dear; Gladys,--what did she do? Or perhaps you and Gladys--"
+
+Mrs. Maynard now surmised that the two girls were in some mischievous
+scrape, and she felt positive that Marjorie had been the instigator, as
+indeed she usually was.
+
+"Oh, Mother, darling," as something in Mrs. Maynard's tone made Marjorie
+smile a little through her tears, "it isn't _mischief_! It's a thousand
+times worse than that!"
+
+Middy was quieter now, with the physical calm that always follows a storm
+of tears.
+
+"It's this; Gladys is going away! Forever! I mean, they're _all_ going to
+move away,--out west, and I'll never see her again!"
+
+Mrs. Maynard realized at once what this meant to Marjorie. The girls were
+such good friends, and neither of them cared so much for any one else, as
+for each other. The Fultons lived just across the street, and had always
+lived there, through both the little girls' lives. It was almost like
+losing her own brother or sister, for Marjorie and Gladys were as
+lovingly intimate as two sisters could be.
+
+Also, it seemed a case where no word of comfort or cheer could be spoken.
+
+So Mrs. Maynard gently caressed her troubled child, and said:
+
+"My poor, darling Midget; I'm _so_ sorry for you. Are you sure? Tell me
+all about it."
+
+"Yes, Mother," went on Marjorie, helped already by her mother's loving
+sympathy; "they just told me this afternoon. I've been over there, you
+know, and Gladys and Mrs. Fulton told me all about it. Mr. Fulton isn't
+well, or something, and for his health, they're all going to California,
+to live there. And they're going right away! The doctor says they must
+hurry. And, oh, what _shall_ I do without Gladys? I love her so!"
+
+"Dear little girl, this is your first trouble; and it has come to you
+just in the beginning of this happy New Year. I can't tell you how sorry
+I am for you, and how I long to help you bear it. But there's no way I
+can help, except by sympathy and love."
+
+"You _do_ help, Mother. I thought I'd _die_ before you came!"
+
+"Yes, darling, I know my sympathy helps you, but I mean, I can't do
+anything to lessen your sorrow at losing Gladys."
+
+"No,--and oh, Mother, isn't it awful? Why, I've _always_ had Gladys."
+
+"You'll have to play more with Kitty."
+
+"Oh, of course I love Kit, to play with at home, and to be my sister. But
+Glad is my chum, my intimate friend, and we always sit together in
+school, and everything like that. Kitty's in another room, and besides,
+she has Dorothy Adams for her friend. You know the difference between
+friends and sisters, don't you, Mother?"
+
+"Of course I do, Midget, dear. You and Kitty are two loving little
+sisters, but I quite understand how you each love your friends of your
+own age."
+
+"And Kitty can keep Dorothy, but I must lose Gladys," and Marjorie's sobs
+broke out anew.
+
+"Why, Mopsy Midget Maynard! Why are we having April showers in January?"
+
+Mr. Maynard's cheery voice sounded in Marjorie's doorway, and his wife
+beckoned him to come in.
+
+"See what you can do for our little girl," she said; "she is trying to
+bear her first real trouble, and I'm sure, after these first awful hours
+she's going to be brave about it."
+
+"What is it, Mops?" said her father, taking the seat Mrs. Maynard
+vacated. "Tell your old father-chum all about it. You know your troubles
+are mine, too."
+
+"Oh, Father," said Marjorie, brightening a little under the influence of
+his strong, helpful voice; "Gladys Fulton is going away from Rockwell to
+live; and I can't have her for my chum any more."
+
+"Yes, I know; I saw Mr. Fulton and he told me. He's pretty ill,
+Marjorie."
+
+"Yes, I know it; and I'm awful sorry for him, and for them. But I'm sorry
+for myself too; I don't want Gladys to go away."
+
+"That's so; you will lose your chum, won't you? By jiminy! it _is_ hard
+lines, little girl. How are you going to take it?"
+
+Marjorie stopped crying, and stared at her father.
+
+"How am I going to take it?" she said, in surprise.
+
+"Yes; that's what I asked. Of course, it's a sorrow, and a deep one, and
+you'll be very lonely without Gladys, and though your mother and I, and
+all of us, will help you all we can, yet we can't help much. So, it's up
+to you. Are you going to give way, and mope around, and make yourself
+even more miserable than need be; or, are you going to be brave, and
+honestly try to bear this trouble nobly and patiently?"
+
+Marjorie looked straight into her father's eyes, and realized that he was
+not scolding or lecturing her, he was looking at her with deep, loving
+sympathy that promised real help.
+
+"I will try to bear it bravely," she said, slowly; "but, Father, that
+doesn't make it any easier to have Gladys go."
+
+Mr. Maynard smiled at this very human sentiment, and said:
+
+"No, Midget, dear, it doesn't, in one way; but in another way it does.
+You mustn't think that I don't appreciate fully your sorrow at losing
+Gladys. But troubles come into every life, and though this is your first,
+I cannot hope it will be your last. So, if you are to have more of them,
+you must begin to learn to bear them rightly, and so make them help your
+character-growth and not hinder it."
+
+"But, Father, you see Gladys helps my character a lot. She loves to go to
+school, and I hate it. But if I go with her, and sit with her I don't
+mind it so much. But without her,--oh how _can_ I go to school without
+her?"
+
+Again Marjorie wept as one who could not be comforted, and Mr. Maynard
+realized it was truly a crisis in the little girl's life.
+
+"Marjorie," he said, very tenderly, "it _is_ a hard blow, and I don't
+wonder it is crushing you. Nor do I expect you to take a philosophical
+view of it at present. But, my child, we'll look at it practically, at
+least. Gladys _is_ going; nothing can change that fact. Now, for my sake,
+as well as your own, I'm going to _ask_ you to be my own brave daughter,
+and not disappoint me by showing a lack of cheerful courage to meet
+misfortune."
+
+"I don't want to be babyish, Father," said Midget, suddenly feeling
+ashamed of herself.
+
+"You're not babyish, dear; it's right and womanly to feel grief at losing
+Gladys; but since it has to be, I want you to conquer that grief, and not
+let it conquer you."
+
+"I'll try," said Midge, wiping away some tears.
+
+"You know, Marjorie, the old rhyme:
+
+"'For every evil under the sun,
+There is a remedy, or there's none;
+If there is one, try to find it,
+And if there is none, never mind it.'
+
+"Now, I don't say 'never mind it' about this matter, but since there's no
+remedy, do the best you can to rise above it, as you will have to do many
+times in your future years."
+
+"Father," said Marjorie, thoughtfully; "that sounds awful noble, but I
+don't believe I quite understand. What can I _do_ to 'rise above it'?"
+
+"Marjorie, you're a trump! I'd rather you'd be practical, than wise. And
+there's no better weapon with which to fight trouble than practicality.
+Now, I'll tell you what to do. And I don't mean today or tomorrow, for
+just at first, you wouldn't be a human little girl if you _didn't_ nearly
+cry your eyes out at the loss of your friend. But soon,--say about next
+Tuesday,--if you could begin to smile a little, and though I know it will
+be hard, smile a little wider and wider each day--"
+
+"Till the top of my head comes off?" said Marjorie, smiling already.
+
+"Yes; theoretically. But make up your mind that since Gladys must go,
+you're not going to let the fact turn you into a sad, dolorous mope
+instead of Mops."
+
+"That's all very well at home, Father dear, but I'll miss her so at
+school."
+
+"Of course you will; but is there any remedy?"
+
+"No, there isn't. I don't want any other seat-mate, and I don't want to
+sit alone."
+
+"Oh! Well, I can't see any way out of that, unless I go and sit with
+you."
+
+Marjorie had to laugh at this. "You couldn't squeeze in the space," she
+said.
+
+"Well, then you've proved there's _no_ remedy. So, never mind it! I mean
+that, dearie. When you are lonely and just fairly _aching_ for Gladys,
+put it bravely out of your mind."
+
+"How can I?"
+
+"Why, fill your mind with something else that will crowd it out. Say to
+yourself, 'There's that sorrow poking his head up again, and I must push
+him down.' Then go at something _hard_. Study your spelling, or go on a
+picnic, _anything_ to crowd that persistent sorrow out."
+
+"Can't I ever think of Gladys?"
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed! but think gay, happy thoughts. If memories of your good
+times make you sad, then cut them out, and wonder what sort of fun she's
+having where she is. Write her nice, cheery letters. Letters are lots of
+fun."
+
+"Indeed they are," said Marjorie, brightening. "I'll love to get her
+letters."
+
+"Of course you will. And you can send each other postcards and little
+gifts, and if you try you can have a lot of pleasure with Gladys in spite
+of old sorrow."
+
+"Daddy, you're such a dear! You've helped me a heap."
+
+"That's what daddys are for, Midget mine. You're one of my four favorite
+children, and don't you suppose I'd help you to the earth, if you wanted
+it?"
+
+"I 'spect you would. And, Father, you said I could cry till about
+Tuesday, didn't you?"
+
+"Why, yes; but make it a little shorter spell each day, and,--if
+perfectly convenient, arrange to do it when I'm at home."
+
+"Oh, Father, that's the time I won't cry! When you're here to talk to
+me."
+
+"You don't say so! Then I'll retire from business, close up my office,
+and stay at home all day hereafter. Anything I can do to help a lady in
+distress, must be done!"
+
+They were both laughing now, and Midge had quite stopped crying, though
+her heart was heavy underneath her smiles.
+
+But the whole current of her thoughts had been changed by her talk with
+her father, and as she made herself tidy, and went down to dinner, she
+felt a responsibility on her to act as became the brave daughter of such
+a dear father.
+
+And, strange to say, the feeling was not entirely unpleasant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+THE GOING OF GLADYS
+
+Gladys was to go away early one Saturday morning.
+
+On Friday afternoon Marjorie gave a little farewell party for her.
+
+Mrs. Maynard arranged this as a pleasant send-off for Marjorie's friend,
+and determined that though it was a sad occasion, it should be also a
+merry one.
+
+So, instead of depending on the guests to make their own entertainment, a
+professional entertainer had been engaged from New York, and he sang and
+recited and did pantomimes that were so funny nobody could help laughing.
+
+And, too, though all the children liked Dick and Gladys Fulton, yet none
+felt so very sorry to have them leave Rockwell as Marjorie did.
+
+Even Kingdon, though he was good chums with Dick, had other chums, and,
+while sorry to have Dick go, he didn't take it greatly to heart.
+
+Marjorie was truly trying to be brave, but she looked at Gladys with a
+heart full of love and longing to keep her friend near her.
+
+As for Gladys, herself, she, too, was sad at leaving Marjorie, but she
+was so full of wonder and curiosity about the new home they were going
+to, in the land of flowers and sunshine, that she was fairly impatient to
+get there.
+
+"Just think, Mopsy," she said, as the two girls sat together at the party
+feast, "the roses out there are as big as cabbages, and bloom all the
+year round."
+
+"Are they really?" said Midget, interested in spite of herself.
+
+"Yes, and I'll send you a big box of them as soon as I get there. They'll
+keep all right, 'cause mother received a box the other day, and they were
+as fresh as fresh."
+
+"And you'll write to me, Glad, won't you?" said Marjorie, a little
+wistfully.
+
+"'Course I will! I'll write every week, and you write every week. What
+day do you choose?"
+
+"Monday; that comes first."
+
+"All right. You write to me every Monday, and I'll write to you every
+Thursday."
+
+"You can't answer a Monday letter on Thursday," put in Gladys's brother
+Dick; "it takes five or six days for a letter to go."
+
+"Well, I'll write the Monday after you go," said Marjorie, "and then you
+answer it as soon as you get it; then I'll answer yours as soon as I get
+it, and so on."
+
+"All right, I will. And I'll write you a letter while I'm on the train,
+travelling. Of course we'll be five or six days getting there ourselves."
+
+"So you will. Oh, Gladys, California is awful far away!"
+
+"Yes, isn't it! But, Mops, maybe you can come out there and visit me some
+time."
+
+Marjorie looked doubtful. "No," she said, "I don't think I could go and
+leave them all, and I don't s'pose you mean for us all to come."
+
+"No, I meant just you. Well, I'll come here and visit you, some time,
+how's that?"
+
+"Lovely!" cried Midge, with sparkling eyes. "Oh, will you, Gladys? That
+will be something to look forward to. Will you?"
+
+"Of course I will, Mops, dear. I know mother'll let me, and I'd love to
+come."
+
+This was a real consolation, and Marjorie laid it up in her heart for
+comfort on lonely days.
+
+After the party supper was over, most of the young guests gave Gladys or
+Dick little gifts which they had brought them as remembrances.
+
+They were merely pretty trifles, but the Fulton children were greatly
+pleased, and declared they should never forget their Rockwell friends for
+any they might make in California.
+
+Marjorie gave Gladys a gold neck-chain, with a little gold heart
+containing her picture, and Gladys had already given Midge her own
+portrait framed in silver to stand on her dressing-table. The young
+guests all went away except the two Fultons, who were to stay to dinner.
+Mr. Maynard came home, and with a determination to keep Marjorie's
+spirits up, he was especially gay and nonsensical.
+
+"I suppose Uncle Sam will have to put on extra mail service when you two
+girls get to corresponding," he said.
+
+"Yes, Mr. Maynard," said Gladys. "Marjorie and I are both going to write
+every week, and I'm going to send her flowers by mail."
+
+"Well, don't send any live rattlesnakes or Gila monsters in the mail.
+They might starve on the way."
+
+"I'd rather they'd starve on the way than reach here alive," said
+Marjorie, with a little shudder.
+
+"Do they have those things where you're going, Glad?"
+
+"I don't know. Isn't it strange to be going to live in a place that you
+don't know anything about?"
+
+"It's strange to have you live anywhere but in Rockwell," said Marjorie,
+and Gladys squeezed her hand under the table.
+
+But at last the time came for the real farewells.
+
+"Cut it short," cried Mr. Maynard, gaily, though there was a lump in his
+own throat as Gladys and Marjorie threw their arms about each other's
+neck for the last time.
+
+The Fultons were to leave very early the next morning, and the girls
+would not meet again.
+
+Both were sobbing, and Dick and Kingdon stood by, truly distressed at
+their sisters' grief.
+
+"Come, dearie, let Gladys go now," said Mrs. Maynard, for knowing
+Marjorie's excitable nature, she feared these paroxysms of tears.
+
+"No, no! she shan't go!" Midge almost screamed, and Gladys was also in a
+state of convulsive weeping.
+
+Mr. Maynard went to Marjorie, and laid his big cool hand on her brow.
+
+"My little girl," he whispered in her ear "father wants you to be brave
+_now_."
+
+Midget look up into his dear, kind eyes, and then, with a truly brave
+effort she conquered herself.
+
+"I will, Father," she whispered back, and then, with one last embrace,
+she said, "Good-bye, Gladys, dear Gladys, good-bye."
+
+She let her go, and Dick took his sister's arm in silence, and they went
+away.
+
+Both Mr. and Mrs. Maynard were somewhat shaken by the children's tragedy,
+but neither thought it wise to show it.
+
+"Now, Mopsy Moppet," said her father, "what do you think I have here?"
+
+He took a parcel from the mantel, and held it up.
+
+"I don't know," said Midge, trying to smile; "what is it?"
+
+"Well, it's a game,--a brand new game, and none of your poky old
+go-to-sleep affairs either. It's a lively, wide-awake game, that only
+lively, wide-awake children can play. So come one, come all!"
+
+They all gathered round the table, and Mr. Maynard explained the rules of
+the new game. Marjorie loved games, and as this was really a most
+interesting one, she couldn't help enjoying it, and was soon absorbed in
+the play. It combined the elements of both skill and chance, and caused
+many moments of breathless suspense, as one or another gained or lost in
+the count.
+
+When it was finished, Marjorie was again her own rosy, smiling self, and
+though she still felt the vague weight of sorrow, she had spent a
+pleasant, enjoyable hour.
+
+"And now to bed, chickadees," cried their father, "it's long past nine!"
+
+"Is it really?" exclaimed Midget, "how the time has flown!"
+
+"That's because you were my own brave girl, and tried to rise above
+misfortune," said Mr. Maynard, as he bade her good-night. "No teary
+pillows to-night, girlie."
+
+"No, Father, dear, I hope not."
+
+"Just go to sleep, and dream that you have a few friends still east of
+the Rockies."
+
+"More than I'll ever have west of them," responded Marjorie, and then
+with her arm round Kitty's waist, the two girls went upstairs to bed.
+
+The next morning at the breakfast table, Mr. Maynard made a sudden and
+unexpected announcement.
+
+"Mother Maynard," he said, "if you can spare your eldest daughter, I
+think I'll borrow her for the day."
+
+"What!" cried Marjorie, looking up in surprise.
+
+"You may have her," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling, "if you'll return her
+safely."
+
+"Oh, I can't promise that. I'm of rather careless habits, and I might
+mislay her somewhere."
+
+"Well, I'll trust you for this once. Mops, do you want to go to town with
+Father?"
+
+Marjorie's eyes flashed an answer, and Kitty exclaimed:
+
+"Without us?"
+
+"I grieve to disappoint you, Kitsie," said Mr. Maynard, "but you still
+have your friend Dorothy. Midget is cruelly deprived of her chum, and so
+for one day she is going to put up with a doddering old gentleman
+instead. Get your bonnet and shawl, my child."
+
+Marjorie looked at her mother for confirmation of this good news, and
+receiving an answering smile, she excused herself from the table and ran
+away to her room. Nannie helped her, and soon she tripped downstairs
+prettily dressed in a dark blue cloth frock and jacket, a blue felt hat,
+and her Christmas furs.
+
+"Whew! what a fine lady!" said her father. "I shall have to don my best
+hat and feathers, I think."
+
+"I've lost my chum, too," said King, as he watched the pair about to
+start.
+
+"Yes, you have, my boy, but he wasn't your 'perfectly darling
+confidential friend,' as girls' chums are! Moreover, you haven't shed
+such gallons of first-class well-salted tears as this young person has.
+No, Son, I'm sorry to leave you behind, but you didn't weep and wail loud
+enough!"
+
+King had to laugh at the way his father put it, but he well knew Marjorie
+was given a day's pleasure to divert her mind from Gladys's departure,
+and he didn't begrudge his sister the trip.
+
+"We must be extra kind to old Midge, Kit," he said, as Marjorie and her
+father walked briskly down the drive.
+
+"Yes," said Kitty, earnestly, "she does feel awful about losing Gladys.
+I'm going to make fudge for her, while she's gone to-day."
+
+"I wish I could do something for her. Boys are no good!"
+
+"You are too!" cried loyal little Kitty. "You can help her with her
+arithmetic every night. She can do it all right, if she has a little
+help, and Glad used to help her a lot."
+
+"Good for you, Kitsie! of course I will. Dear old Midge, I'm terrible
+sorry for her."
+
+Meantime, Marjorie, by her father's side, was rushing along in the train
+to New York.
+
+While Mr. Maynard read his paper, he glanced sometimes at his daughter,
+and rejoiced that she was interestedly gazing out of the window at the
+flying scenery.
+
+Occasionally, she turned and smiled at him, but she said little, and he
+knew she was being brave and trying not to think too much about her loss.
+
+Gladys had gone away early and when they had passed the closed and
+deserted-looking Fulton house, Marjorie had swallowed hard and looked the
+other way.
+
+But once in New York, the child had no time to think of anything but the
+present hour, so full of joy was the whole day.
+
+"My time is yours," announced Mr. Maynard, as they reached the city.
+"I've telephoned to the office that I won't be there at all today, so
+what shall we do?"
+
+"Oh, Father, a whole Ourday, all for you and me?" Marjorie's eyes danced
+at this unheard of experience.
+
+"Yes, Midget; partly because I'm sorry for my troubled little girl, and
+partly because you _are_ bearing your trouble bravely and cheerfully."
+
+"Who wouldn't be cheerful, with a whole Ourday, and a whole father, all
+to myself!"
+
+"Well, you'll probably never have another, alone with me. So make the
+most of it. Where shall we go first?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know; it's all so lovely."
+
+"Then I'll choose. Step this way, Madame."
+
+This way, was toward a line of waiting taxicabs, and Mr. Maynard engaged
+one, and handed Marjorie in.
+
+"A taxy ride! Oh, lovely!" she cried, as they started off at a fine pace.
+
+On they went, spinning across town, till they reached Fifth Avenue, and
+turned up that broad thoroughfare.
+
+Marjorie enjoyed every minute, and looked out of the open window at the
+bustling city life all about. Up town they went for blocks and blocks,
+and stopped at the Metropolitan Art Museum.
+
+They went in here, after Mr. Maynard had dismissed the cab, and staid the
+rest of the morning.
+
+Marjorie, perhaps, would not have cared so much for the pictures and
+statues had she been alone; but her father called her attention to
+certain ones, and told her about them in such a way, that she was amused
+and instructed both.
+
+They looked at strange and curious relics of ancient times; they studied
+the small models of the world's greatest buildings; and they lingered in
+the hall full of casts of the noblest statues of all time.
+
+"Hungry, Chickadee?" said Mr. Maynard, at last, looking at his watch.
+
+"Why, yes, I believe I am; but I hadn't thought of it."
+
+"I'm glad you are, for I can assure you I am. Suppose we make a mad dash
+for a pie-shop."
+
+"Come on," said Marjorie, and away they went, through the turnstiles, and
+out upon Fifth Avenue again.
+
+Mr. Maynard hailed a motor-omnibus, and Marjorie carefully climbed the
+spiral staircase at the back. Her father followed, and sitting up on top
+of the 'bus, in the crisp, wintry air and bright sunshine, they went
+whizzing down the avenue.
+
+"Isn't it fun, Father!" said Marjorie, as she held tightly to his arm.
+
+"Yes, and there's a fine view to-day." He pointed out many famous
+buildings, and when they neared a large hotel, he said:
+
+"We'll have to get out, Midge. I shall pine away with hunger before
+another block."
+
+"Out we go!" was the reply, and they clambered down the twisty stair.
+
+"Is there anything that would tempt your appetite, Miss Maynard?" said
+her father, as, seated at a small round table, he looked over the menu.
+
+"No, thank you; I don't think I can eat a thing!" said Midge, dropping
+her eyes, and trying to look fragile and delicate.
+
+"No? But really, you must try to taste of something. Say, the left wing
+of a butterfly, with hard sauce."
+
+This made Marjorie laugh, and she said, "I couldn't eat it all, but I
+might nibble at it."
+
+Then what Mr. Maynard really did, was to order Marjorie's favourite
+dishes.
+
+First, they had grape-fruit, all cut in bits, and piled up in dainty,
+long-stemmed glasses. Then, they had a soft, thick soup, and then
+sweetbreads with mushrooms.
+
+"You're not to get ill, you know," said Mr. Maynard, as Marjorie showed
+a surprising appetite, "but I do want you to have whatever you like
+to-day."
+
+"Oh, I won't get ill," declared Marjorie, gaily, "and now, may I select
+the ice cream?"
+
+"Yes, if you won't ask for plum pudding also."
+
+"No, but I do want little cakes, iced all over. Pink and green and white
+and yellow ones."
+
+These were allowed, and Marjorie blissfully kept on nibbling them, while
+Mr. Maynard sipped his coffee. In the afternoon they went to a matinee.
+It was one of the gorgeous spectacular productions, founded upon an old
+fairy tale, and Marjorie was enraptured with the beautiful tableaux, the
+wonderful scenery, and the gay music.
+
+"Oh, Father," she said, "aren't we having the gorgeousest time! You are
+the beautifulest man in the whole world!"
+
+After the performance, Mr. Maynard spoke of going home, but Marjorie's
+eyes held a mute appeal, which he could not resist.
+
+"Ice cream _again!_" he said, though she had not spoken the words. "Well,
+ice cream it is, then, but no rich cakes this time. I promised Motherdy
+I'd bring you home safe and sound. But I'll tell you, we'll buy some of
+those cakes to take home, and you may have them to-morrow."
+
+"And Kitty and King, too," said Midge. "And let's take them some
+buttercups."
+
+So the candy and cakes were bought and carried home by two tired but very
+happy people, and Marjorie fully appreciated the lovely day her father
+had given her, because of Gladys's going away.
+
+"And I _will_ be good and brave," she resolved to herself, on her way
+home in the train. "I'm going to try to be just as cheerful and pleasant
+as If Gladys hadn't gone away at all, but was in her own house, across
+the street."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+THE COMING OF DELIGHT
+
+But though Marjorie made her brave resolutions in good faith, it was hard
+to keep them. School was awful. The very sight of Gladys's empty seat
+made Midge choke with tears.
+
+Miss Lawrence appreciated the case, and was most gentle and kind to
+Marjorie, but still the trouble was there.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to have Katy Black sit with you, dear?" asked the
+teacher.
+
+"No, thank you." said Midge, "I can't bear to put any one in Gladys's
+place. Don't bother about me, Miss Lawrence, I'm not going to cry."
+
+She didn't cry, but she sighed so frequently and so deeply, that
+kind-hearted Miss Lawrence almost wept in sympathy.
+
+At home it was better. The Maynards always had good times at home, and of
+course when there, Marjorie didn't miss Gladys so much. But the long
+mornings in the school-room, and the long afternoons when she wanted to
+run over to Gladys's house were almost unbearable.
+
+Merry, madcap Midget became a sober-faced little girl, who was all the
+more pathetic because she tried to be cheerful.
+
+Mrs. Maynard felt worried about the matter, and proposed to her husband
+that she should take Marjorie, and go away for a trip somewhere.
+
+"No," said Mr. Maynard; "let her fight it out. It's hard for her, but
+it's doing her real good, and bringing out the best side of her nature.
+We'll all help her all we can, and if I'm not greatly mistaken our
+Marjorie will come out of this ordeal with flying colors."
+
+"It's will-power, little daughter," said Mr. Maynard to her one evening.
+"Just determine that this cloud shall not entirely obscure the sun for
+you."
+
+"Yes," said Midge, smiling, "it's just an eclipse, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, and it seems to be a total eclipse; but even total eclipses pass,
+if we wait long enough. Any letter from Gladys this week?"
+
+"One came this morning. Would you like to read it?"
+
+"Of course I should, very much."
+
+"It's strange," said Marjorie, as she produced the letter, "for all
+Gladys loves school so, and is a good student, she can't seem to spell
+right."
+
+"I know another lady who has difficulty in that direction," said Mr.
+Maynard, smiling.
+
+"Yes, but Glad is different. She can spell the spelling-book stickers,
+'embarrassed,' and 'cleemosynary,' and such words, 'cause she studies
+them; and then she'll misspell simple every-day words. Now, you see."
+
+Mr. Maynard smiled a little as he read the letter.
+
+_Los Angeles, Cal._
+
+DEAR MARJORIE:
+
+We are having a lovely time. We have not found a house yet, but are
+staying at the hotel till we do find one to suite us, I like it here very
+much. I miss you very much, dear Marjorie. There are lovely people in the
+hotel, and we go for walks to pick flowers. The flowers here are
+beautiful. Now I must close. With lots of love and kisses, your
+
+LOVING GLADYS.
+
+"Between you and me and the post, Midget, I don't think that's a very
+interesting letter, do you?"
+
+"No, Father, I don't. I thought Glad would write more as she talks. She
+doesn't talk a bit like that, when we're together."
+
+"I know it, Mops, I've heard her. But some people never can write as they
+talk. As soon as they get a pen between their fingers, their brain seems
+to freeze up, and break off in little, cold, hard sentences. Now, what
+sort of a letter do you write?"
+
+"Here's the answer I wrote to-day to Gladys. I haven't sent it yet."
+
+MY DARLING GLADYS:
+
+I wish you would come back. It's perfectly horrid at school without you,
+and though Miss Lawrence said Katy Black could sit with me, I don't want
+her. She's a nice enough girl, but she isn't you. And nobody is, Dear old
+Glad, I do miss you so. Of course as there's no remedy under the sun, I'm
+being cheerful and gay about it, but my heart misses you just the same.
+We don't have the Jinks Club any more. It made me sick to go to it
+without you. I expect you're having good times in California, and I'm
+glad of that. Write soon to
+
+YOUR LOVING MOPSY MIDGET.
+
+"Now, of the two, Midge, yours is the much better letter. Don't ever try
+to copy Gladys's style, will you?"
+
+"No; I'm glad you like mine best. You see, I write without thinking about
+anything except not to spill the ink."
+
+"A very good plan. Stick to it all your life. Midget, I don't want to be
+unkind, but has it struck you that Gladys is not so heart-broken over
+your separation as you are?"
+
+A look of pain came into Marjorie's loyal eyes, as she said:
+
+"It does seem so, I know. But I think it's because Gladys has all sorts
+of new places and new people to amuse her, while I'm left here alone."
+
+"It's partly that, little girl; and partly because Gladys hasn't such a
+warm, loving loyal heart as my Marjorie's."
+
+"She is different," admitted Midget; "but I know she loves me, even if it
+doesn't say so right out in her letter."
+
+"Perhaps she forgot to put it in, because she was so busy trying not to
+spill the ink."
+
+"Perhaps so," agreed Marjorie, answering the twinkle in her father's eye.
+
+"And now, Miss Mops, I have a bit of news for you. The Fulton house is
+rented to some people from New York."
+
+"Is it?" said Marjorie, indifferently.
+
+"And in the family is a girl twelve years of age."
+
+"And you think she'll take Glad's place!" cried Midge, indignantly.
+"Well, I can just tell you she won't! A girl from New York! She'll be
+stuck-up, and superior, and look down on us Rockwell girls!"
+
+"How do you know all this?"
+
+"I know; 'cause Katy Black had a girl from New York visiting her, and she
+was just horrid! All stiff and mincy, and dropping curtseys every two
+minutes!"
+
+"But you're taught to drop curtseys."
+
+"Yes, when I enter or leave a room where there are ladies, but that girl
+was always at it, in school and everywhere."
+
+"Sort of a jumping-jack, wasn't she? Well, try to like this new girl,
+dearie; it's the best I can do for you in the way of neighbors."
+
+"Oh, I may like her,--and I'll be polite to her, of course; but I know I
+shan't want her for an intimate friend, like Glad."
+
+"Perhaps not; but I was so pleased when I heard a little girl was coming
+to live across the street, that I think you ought to be pleased too."
+
+"Well, I will! I am! And if she isn't too stuck-up, I'll try to like
+her."
+
+A few afternoons later, King, who was sitting by a front window, called
+out:
+
+"Hi! I say, Mops! Here's the new family moving into the Fulton house!"
+
+Marjorie only upset a waste-basket and a very small table as she ran to
+the window to look out.
+
+Kitty raced after her, and Rosy Posy toddled up too, so in a moment the
+four were eagerly gazing at the new-comers, themselves quite hidden by
+the lace curtains.
+
+"Nice looking bunch," commented King, as he watched a well-dressed lady
+and gentleman get out of the carriage.
+
+"And there's the girl!" cried Marjorie, as a child followed them. "Oh,
+she _is_ a stuck-up!"
+
+"How do you know?" said King. "I think she's a daisy!"
+
+They could only see her back, as the new neighbor walked up the path to
+the house, but she seemed to be of a dainty, not to say finicky type.
+
+She wore a large hat with feathers, and a black velvet coat that covered
+her frock completely.
+
+A mass of fluffy golden hair hung below the big black hat, and the little
+girl tripped along in a way that if not "mincing," was certainly
+"citified."
+
+"No, I don't like her," declared Midge, as she watched the stranger go up
+the steps and into the house; "she isn't a bit like Gladys."
+
+"Neither am I," said King, "but you like me."
+
+"Yes, you dear, cunning little sweet thing, I do like you," said Midget,
+touching King's hair in a teasing way.
+
+He promptly pulled off her hair-ribbon, and as Marjorie felt in the
+humor, this began one of their favorite games of make-believe.
+
+"The diamond tiara!" she shrieked, "the villain hath stole it!"
+
+"Horrors!" cried Kitty, "then shall he be captured, and forced to restore
+it!"
+
+She pounced on King, and aided by Marjorie, they threw him on the couch,
+and wrapped his head in the afghan. Horrible growls came from the
+prisoner, but no word of surrender.
+
+"Art vanquished?" asked Kitty pulling the afghan away from one of his
+eyes.
+
+"I art not!" he declared in a muffled voice, but with so terrific a glare
+from that one eye, that they hastily covered him up again.
+
+But he managed to free himself, and stood towering above the
+terror-stricken girls, who now knelt at his feet and begged for mercy.
+
+"Spare us!" moaned Kit. "We are but lorn damsels who seek food and
+shelter!"
+
+"Me wants a selter, too," announced Rosy Posy, joining the others, and
+clasping her little fat hands as they did. "What is a selter?"
+
+"A selter for none of you!" roared King, with threatening gestures. "To
+the dungeon, all three! Ha, varlets, appear, and do my bidding!"
+
+"I'll be a varlet," said Midge, suddenly changing her role. "We'll put
+Lady Katherine in the dungeon, and let the fair Lady Rosamond go
+free!"
+
+"As thou sayest," said King, agreeably, and, though bravely resisting,
+Kitty was overpowered, and thrown into a dungeon under the table. From
+this she contrived to escape by the clever expedient of creeping out at
+the other side, but as it was then time to get ready for dinner, the game
+came to an untimely end.
+
+"We've seen the new girl, Father," said Marjorie, as they sat at the
+table.
+
+"Have you? Well, I've seen the new man,--that is, if you refer to our new
+neighbors across the street."
+
+"Yes, in Gladys's house. What's his name, Father?"
+
+"Mr. Spencer. I met him at the post-office, and Mr. Gage introduced us.
+Mr. Gage is the agent who has the Fulton house in charge, and he told we
+before that these newcomers are fine people. I liked Mr. Spencer
+exceedingly. I'm sorry, Mops, you're so determined not to like the
+daughter. Mr. Spencer tells me she's a lovable child."
+
+"Oh, of course he'd think so,--he's her father."
+
+"Well, I admit, fathers are a prejudiced class. Perhaps I have too high
+an opinion of my own brood."
+
+"You couldn't have," said Kitty, calmly, and Mr. Maynard laughed as he
+looked at the four smiling faces, and responded:
+
+"I don't believe I could!"
+
+"Don't spoil them, Fred," said Mrs. Maynard, warningly, but King broke
+in:
+
+"Too late, Mother! We're spoiled already. Father's high opinion of us has
+made us puffed up and conceited."
+
+"Nonsense, King," cried Midge; "we're not conceited. Not nearly as much
+so as that girl across the way. You ought to see, Father, how she hopped
+up the walk! Like a scornful grasshopper!"
+
+"Marjorie," said Mrs. Maynard, repressing a smile, "you must not
+criticise people so; especially those you don't know."
+
+"Well, she did, Mother. She thinks because she came from New York,
+Rockwell people are no good at all."
+
+"How do you know that, Midge?" said her father, a little gravely.
+
+"Oh, Midget is a reader of character," said King. "She only saw this
+girl's yellow hair, hanging down her back, and she knew all about her at
+once."
+
+"She had a velvet coat," protested Marjorie, "and a short dress and long
+black legs--"
+
+"You wouldn't want her to wear a train, would you?" put in Kitty.
+
+"No, but her frock was awful short, and her hat was piled with feathers."
+
+"That will do, Marjorie," said her father, very decidedly, now. "It isn't
+nice to run on like that about some one you've never met."
+
+"But I'm just telling what I saw, Father."
+
+"But not in a kind spirit, my child. You're trying to make the little
+girl appear unattractive, or even ridiculous; and you must not do that.
+It isn't kind."
+
+"That's so," said Marjorie, contritely; "it's horrid of me, I know, and
+I'll stop it. But she did look like a flyaway jib!"
+
+"What is a flyaway jib?" said her father, with an air of one seeking
+information.
+
+"I haven't an idea," said Mops, laughing; "but I know I've heard of it
+somewhere."
+
+"And so you describe a girl whom you don't know, in words whose meaning
+you don't know! Well, that's consistent, at any rate! Now, I _do_ know
+something about this young lady. And, to begin with, I know her name."
+
+"Oh, what is it?" said Midge and Kitty together.
+
+"Well, Mops is such a reader of character, she ought to be able to guess
+her name. What do you think it is, Midget?"
+
+Marjorie considered. She dearly loved to guess, even when she had no hint
+to go by.
+
+"I think," she said, slowly, "it is probably Arabella or Araminta."
+
+"'Way off," said her father; "you're no good at guessing. Kitty, what do
+you say?"
+
+"It ought to be Seraphina," said Kitty, promptly. "She looks like a wax
+doll."
+
+"Wrong again! King, want to guess?"
+
+"'Course I do. I think her name is Flossy Flouncy. She looks so dressy
+and gay."
+
+"That's a good name, King," said Marjorie, "and just suits her. I shall
+call her that, what ever her real name is. I suppose it's Mary Jane, or
+something not a bit like her. What is it, Father?"
+
+"Well, it's not a common name, exactly. It's Delight."
+
+"Delight!" cried King. "What a funny, name! I never heard of it before."
+
+"I think it's lovely," declared Marjorie. "It's a beautiful name. Why
+didn't you name me Delight, Mother?"
+
+"You didn't say you wanted me to," returned Mrs. Maynard, smiling, for
+Marjorie often wished for various names that pleased her better than her
+own for the moment.
+
+"Well, I think it's sweet, don't you, Kit?"
+
+"Beautiful!" said Kitty, enthusiastically.
+
+"And she's not at all 'stuck-up,'" went on Mr. Maynard; "she's rather
+shy, and though she wants to get acquainted with you children, she's
+afraid you won't like her. I didn't tell Mr. Spencer that you had decided
+already not to like her."
+
+"I like her name," said Marjorie, "but I don't like her because she lives
+in Gladys's house, and she isn't Gladys!"
+
+"So that's where the shoe pinches!" said Mr. Maynard, laughing at
+Marjorie's troubled face. "A foolish resentment because strangers are in
+your friend's home. Why, dearie, Mr. Fulton was most anxious to rent the
+house, and he'll be glad to have such good tenants. And, by the way,
+Midge, don't say anything more unpleasant about the little Spencer girl.
+You've said enough."
+
+"I won't, Father," said Midget, with an honest glance from her big, dark
+eyes into his own, for truth to tell, she felt a little ashamed of her
+foolish criticisms already.
+
+"Delight!" she said, musingly as she and Kitty were preparing for bed
+that night. "Isn't it a dear name, Kit? What does it make you think of?"
+
+"A princess," said Kitty, whose imagination Was always in fine working
+order; "one who always wears light blue velvet robes, and eats off of
+gold dishes."
+
+"Yes," agreed Marjorie, falling in with the game, "and she has white
+doves fluttering about, and black slaves to bow before her."
+
+"No, not black slaves; they're for princesses named Ermengarde or
+Fantasmagoria." Kitty was not always particular about any authority for
+names, if they sounded well. "A princess named Delight would have
+handmaidens,--fair-haired ones, with soft trailing white robes."
+
+"Kit, you're a wonder," said Marjorie, staring at her younger sister;
+"how do you know such things?"
+
+"They come to me," said Kitty, mystically.
+
+"Well, they sound all right, but I don't believe handmaidens ought to
+wear trailing gowns. How could they handmaid?"
+
+"That's so," said Kitty, a little crestfallen.
+
+"Never mind; I spect they could. They could gracefully throw the trails
+over their arms, as they glide along in their sandalled feet."
+
+"Yes, and strains of music came from concealed luters--"
+
+"Huh! looters are burglars, and it's slang besides."
+
+"No, not that kind. Luters that play on lutes, I mean. And the Princess
+Delight would sniff attar of rose, and fan herself with waving peacock
+feathers."
+
+"A slave ought to do that."
+
+"Well, all right, let him. And then the Princess falls asleep 'neath her
+silken coverlet, and lets her sister put out the lights,--like this!" and
+with a jump, Kitty bounced into her own little bed, and pulled up the
+down coverlet to her chin.
+
+Imitating the white-robed handmaidens, Marjorie swayed around to an
+improvised chant of her own, and putting out the electric lights with
+much dramatic elaboration, she finally swayed into her own bed, and after
+they had both chanted a choric good-night, they soon fell sleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+A VISIT TO CINDERELLA
+
+One afternoon Marjorie sat by the fire reading. She was not specially
+interested in her book, but Kitty had gone to see Dorothy Adams, and King
+was off somewhere, so she had no one to play with.
+
+Presently Sarah entered.
+
+"There's somebody wants you on the telephone, Miss Marjorie," she said,
+and Midget jumped up, wondering who it could be.
+
+"Hello," she said, as she took the receiver.
+
+"Hello," said a pleasant voice; "is this Marjorie Maynard?"
+
+"Yes; who is this?"
+
+"This is Cinderella."
+
+"Who!"
+
+"Cinderella. My two stepsisters have gone to a ball, and my cruel
+stepmother has beaten me and starved me--"
+
+"What are you talking about? Who is this, please?"
+
+"Me. I'm Cinderella. And I'm so lonely and sad I thought perhaps you'd
+come over to see me."
+
+A light began to dawn on Marjorie.
+
+"Oh," she continued, "where do you live?"
+
+"Across the street from your house."
+
+"Then you're Delight Spencer."
+
+"Yes, I am. Can't you come over and let's get acquainted?"
+
+"Yes, I will. I'd like to. Shall I come now?"
+
+"Yes, right away. Good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye."
+
+Marjorie hung up the receiver and after a hasty brush at her curls, and a
+few pinches at her hair ribbons, she flung on hat and coat and flew
+across the street.
+
+If only this new girl should be a desirable chum!
+
+That opening about Cinderella sounded hopeful,--she must know how to
+play.
+
+Well, at any rate, Midget would soon know now.
+
+She rang the bell at Gladys's house, with a queer feeling, and as she
+went in, and saw the familiar rooms and furniture, and no Gladys, she
+almost started to run away again--
+
+"Miss Delight wants you to come right up to her room, Miss," said the
+maid who admitted her, and Marjorie followed her upstairs, glad to find
+that at least the new girl didn't have Gladys's room for her own. The
+maid indicated the room, and stood aside for Marjorie to enter, but at
+the first glance Midget stood still on the threshold.
+
+In the first place the room was transformed. It had been the Fultons'
+playroom, and furnished rather plainly; but now it was so full of all
+sorts of things, that it looked like a bazaar.
+
+In a big armchair sat Delight. She had on a Japanese quilted kimona of
+light blue silk, and little blue Turkish slippers. Her hair was pure
+golden, and was just a tangle of fluffy curls topped by a huge blue bow.
+
+But her face, Marjorie thought at once, was the most beautiful face she
+had ever seen. Big blue eyes, a soft pink and white complexion, and red
+lips smiling over little white teeth, made Delight look like the pictures
+on Marjorie's fairy calendar.
+
+And yet, as Midget stood for a moment, looking at her, the pink faded
+from her cheeks, and she rose from her chair, and said, stiffly:
+
+"Sit down, won't you? I'm glad you came."
+
+Marjorie sat down, on the edge of a couch, and Delight sank back in her
+big chair.
+
+She was so evidently overcome with a spasm of shyness that Midget was
+sorry for her, but somehow it made her feel shy, herself, and the two
+little girls sat there, looking at each other, without saying a word.
+
+At last, overcoming her embarrassment, Marjorie said, "Was it you who
+telephoned?" A sudden wave of red flooded Delight's pale cheeks, and she
+answered:
+
+"Yes, it was. I have a cold, and can't go out of my room,--and mother is
+out,--and--and I was awfully lonesome, so I played I was Cinderella. And
+then I just happened to think I'd telephone you--just for fun--"
+
+"Have you a stepmother? Is she cruel to you?"
+
+"Mercy, no! Mother is the dearest thing in the world, and she adores
+me,--spoils me, in fact. She's gone out now to get me some things to make
+valentines with. But I wish she was here. I thought it would be fun to
+see,--to see you alone,--but you're so different from what I thought you
+were."
+
+"Different, how?" said Midget, forgetting her own shyness in her interest
+in this strange girl.
+
+"Why, you're so--so big, and rosy,--and your eyes snap so."
+
+"You're afraid of me!" exclaimed Midget, laughing merrily.
+
+"I'm not when you laugh like that!" returned Delight, who was beginning
+to feel more at ease.
+
+"Well, I was afraid of you, too, at first. You looked so--so, breakable,
+you know."
+
+"Delicate?"
+
+"Yes, fragile. Like those pretty spun sugar things."
+
+"I am delicate. At least, mother says I am. I hate to romp or run, and
+I'm afraid of people who do those things."
+
+"Well, I'm not afraid of anybody who can play she's Cinderella over a
+telephone! I love to run and play out-of-doors, but I love to play
+'pretend games' too."
+
+"So do I. But I have to play them all by myself. Except sometimes mother
+plays with me."
+
+"You can play with us. We all play pretend games. Kitty's best at
+it,--she's my sister. And King--Kingdon, my brother, is grand."
+
+"Take off your things, won't you? I ought to have asked you before. I
+haven't any sense."
+
+Marjorie jumped up and threw off her hat and coat, tossed them on the
+couch, and then plumped herself into another big chair near Delight's.
+
+The children were indeed a contrast.
+
+Marjorie, large for her age, full of hearty, healthy life, and
+irrepressible gayety of spirit, bounced around like a big, good-natured
+rubber ball. Delight, small, slender, and not very strong, moved always
+gently and timidly.
+
+Marjorie, too, was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and rosy-cheeked; while
+Delight was of lovely blonde type, and her pale blue robe suited her, as
+Midget's crimson cashmere set off her own vivid coloring.
+
+The ice fairly broken, the little girls forgot their shyness, and
+acquaintance progressed rapidly.
+
+"Have you always lived in New York?" asked Midget.
+
+"Yes; but I'm so delicate mother thinks this place will be better for me.
+Do you like it here?"
+
+"Why, yes. But I've always lived here, you know. Are you going to
+school?"
+
+"No; I never go to school. It makes me nervous. I always have a governess
+at home."
+
+"Oh, how lovely! I'd give anything if I could study that way. Isn't it
+fun?"
+
+"Oh, no; it's so lonely. I'd ever so much rather go to school and be in a
+class. But I always faint in a schoolroom."
+
+"I don't faint,--I don't know how. I wish I did, I'd try it, and then
+Miss Lawrence would have to send me home. Where are you in arithmetic?"
+
+"Partial Payments; but I'm reviewing. Where are you?"
+
+"Cube root, and I hate it."
+
+"So do I. How do you like my room?"
+
+"It's splendid. But I can't take it all in at once."
+
+Marjorie jumped up and walked round the room, stopping to look at the
+aquarium, the blackboard, the gramophone, and many other modes of
+entertainment which had been collected to give Delight pleasure.
+
+"Yes, I love my things. I have so many, and father is always bringing me
+new ones. That's to make up for my being an only child. I often beg
+mother to adopt a sister for me."
+
+"I'll be your sister," said Midget, in a sudden heartfelt burst of
+sympathy for the lonely little girl.
+
+"Oh, will you?" she said, wistfully; "and come and live with me?"
+
+"No, not that," laughed Marjorie; "but we'll play we're sisters, and you
+can call my brother and sisters yours too."
+
+"I'm glad I came to Rockwell," said Delight, with happy eyes; "I think
+you're splendid."
+
+"And I think you're lovely. I hope we'll get along. Do you squabble?"
+
+"I don't think so," replied Delight, doubtfully; "you see, I never had a
+chance."
+
+"I don't believe you do. I hate it, myself; but lots of the girls think
+it's fun to get mad at each other, and stay mad a few weeks and then make
+up."
+
+"How silly! You're not like that, are you?"
+
+"No, I'm not. I had a friend who used to live in this very house, and we
+never have been mad at each other in our lives. That's why I didn't say
+I'd be your friend. It seems sort of--kind of--"
+
+"Yes, I see," said Delight, gently. "You're awfully loyal, aren't you?
+Well, I'd rather be your sister, anyway,--your play-sister."
+
+"I'll be your step-sister," said Midget, remembering Cinderella. "Not the
+cross kind."
+
+"No, the pleasant kind. All right, we'll be step-sisters, and will you
+come to see me often?"
+
+"Yes, and you must come over to my house."
+
+"I will, when mother'll let me. She hates to have me go anywhere."
+
+"Do you know," said Midget, in a spirit of contrition, "I thought you
+were 'stuck-up.'"
+
+Delight sighed a little. "Everybody thinks that," she said, "just because
+I don't go to school, and so I don't get acquainted much. But I'm not
+stuck-up."
+
+"Indeed you're not, and I shall tell all the girls so. But after your
+cold gets well, you can go out doors to play, can't you?"
+
+"I don't know. Mother never lets me go out much, except with her. Oh,
+here comes mother now!"
+
+Mrs. Spencer came into the room and smiled pleasantly at Midget.
+
+Delight introduced them, and Marjorie rose and curtseyed, then Mrs.
+Spencer said:
+
+"I'm glad you came, my dear child. I meant to ask you soon, as I want you
+and Delight to be great friends."
+
+Mrs. Spencer was an attractive-looking lady and spoke cordially, but
+somehow Marjorie didn't fancy her.
+
+There was no tangible reason, for she was charming and gracious, but
+Midget felt she was a nervous, fussy woman, and not calm and capable like
+her own dear mother.
+
+"My mother is coming to call on you," said Marjorie to her hostess. "I
+heard her say so. She doesn't know I'm here, for she wasn't at home when
+I came, but I know she'll be pleased when I tell her."
+
+"Did you come away without mother's permission? Naughty! Naughty!" said
+Mrs. Spencer, playfully shaking her finger at Marjorie.
+
+Midget's eyes opened wide. "Of course, I shouldn't have come," she said,
+"if I hadn't known she would be willing." She resented Mrs. Spencer's
+reproof, as that lady knew nothing of the circumstances, and besides,
+Marjorie was always allowed to do as she chose afternoons, within certain
+well-understood restrictions.
+
+But Mrs. Spencer had brought several interesting-looking parcels, and all
+else was forgotten in the examination of their contents.
+
+They proved to contain gold and silver paper, lace paper, small pictures,
+crepe paper, cards, ribbons, paste, and lots of other things.
+
+Marjorie's eyes sparkled as she saw the lovely things tumbled out on a
+low table which Mrs. Spencer drew up in front of the girls. "For
+valentines?" she exclaimed, as she realized the possibilities.
+
+"Yes; will you help Delight to make them?"
+
+"Indeed, I will, Mrs. Spencer; but not now. It's five o'clock, and I have
+to go home at five."
+
+"Dear, dear, little girls that run away without mother's permission
+oughtn't to be so particular about going home on time."
+
+Marjorie was puzzled. Mrs. Spencer didn't see the matter rightly, she was
+sure, and yet to explain it to her seemed like correcting a grown-up
+lady, which, of course, was impolite. So she only smiled, and said she
+must go home, but she would be glad to come again.
+
+To her surprise, Delight began to cry,--not noisily,--but with quiet,
+steady weeping, that seemed to imply a determination to keep it up.
+
+Marjorie looked her amazement, which was not lessened when Mrs. Spencer
+said, almost coldly:
+
+"I should think she would cry, poor, dear sick child, when her little
+friend refuses to stay with her."
+
+"But, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, really distressed, now, "it is our rule
+always to go home at five o'clock, unless mother has said we could stay
+later. So I have to go."
+
+"Very well, then, go on," said Mrs. Spencer, a little pettishly; but she
+helped Marjorie on with her coat, and patted her on the shoulder.
+
+"You're a good little girl," she said, "and I suppose I'm selfish where
+Delight is concerned. Will you come again to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Oh, no, thank you; I have to go to school."
+
+"Yes, I suppose you do. Well, come to-morrow afternoon."
+
+"Yes, do," said Delight, staying her tears, as they seemed to do no good.
+
+"I'll see about it," said Midget, a little bewildered by these emotional
+people. "I'd like to come."
+
+She said her good-byes, and flew across the street to her own home.
+
+She flung to the front door behind her, with what was _almost_ a bang,
+and then throwing her coat and hat on the hall rack, she burst into the
+living-room, where Mrs. Maynard was sitting with Rosy Posy in her lap.
+
+"Marjorie," her mother said, as she observed the impulsive child, "you
+are just a shade too noisy. Will you kindly go back to the hall, and try
+to enter this room in a manner more becoming to a lady and a Maynard?"
+
+"I will, indeed, Mother. And you're quite right; I was awful racketty."
+
+Marjorie returned to the hall, and then came in with graceful, mincing
+steps, purposely overdoing the scene. She paused in front of her mother
+dropped an elaborate curtsey, and holding out her hand daintily, said:
+
+"Good-evening, Mrs. Maynard; are you at home?"
+
+"I am, you silly child," said her mother, kissing her affectionately,
+"and overdone manners are much better than no manners at all."
+
+"Yes'm; and what do you think, Mother? I've been over to see Delight
+Spencer."
+
+"You have? Why, I meant to take you when I go to call. How did you happen
+to go?"
+
+So Marjorie told the story of the telephoning, adding: "And you know,
+Mother, you always used to let me go to Gladys's without asking you, so I
+went. Wasn't it all right?"
+
+Marjorie looked so disturbed that Mrs. Maynard smiled, and said:
+
+"Why, I suppose there's no harm done,--since the little girl asked you to
+come--"
+
+Marjorie looked greatly relieved. "Well," she said, "Mrs. Spencer thought
+it was awful for me to go without asking you,--and then,--she wanted me
+to stay after five o'clock, and was madder 'n hops 'cause I didn't!"
+
+"What a remarkable lady! But I can judge better if you tell me the whole
+story."
+
+So Marjorie told all about the afternoon, and Mrs. Maynard was greatly
+interested.
+
+"Not exactly stuck-up, is she, Midget?" said King, who had come in during
+the recital.
+
+"No," owned up Marjorie. "I was mistaken about that; and I think I'd like
+her a lot, if she wasn't the crying kind. I do hate cry babies."
+
+"Ho! You wept oceans when Glad went away."
+
+"Yes," retorted Marjorie, unabashed, "but that's very different. I don't
+burst into weeps just because a next-door neighbor is going home!"
+
+"'Deed you don't, old girl! You're a brick, and I was a meany to say what
+I did. But perhaps Delight doesn't cry so much when she's well."
+
+"She's never well. I mean she's delicate and frail and always having
+colds and things."
+
+"Pooh, a nice sort of girl for you to play with! You're as hardy as an
+Indian."
+
+"I know it. We all are."
+
+"She probably stays in the house too much," said Mrs. Maynard. "If you
+children can persuade her to go out of doors and romp with you, she'll
+soon get stronger."
+
+"She says she hates to romp," observed Marjorie.
+
+"Then I give her up!" cried King. "No stay-in-the-house girls for me.
+Say, what do you think, Mops! A straw-ride to-morrow afternoon! Mr. Adams
+is going to take a big sleigh-load of us! Isn't that gay!"
+
+"Fine!" cried Marjorie, the delicate Delight quite forgotten for the
+moment, "tell me all about it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+A STRAW-RIDE
+
+"Then, mother," said Marjorie, as she started for school next morning,
+"you'll call on Mrs. Spencer this morning and ask her to let Delight go
+on the straw-ride with us this afternoon. Will you, Mother, will you?"
+
+"Yes, my Midget, I told you I would. But I doubt if she'll let the little
+girl go."
+
+"So do I, but you coax her. Good-bye, Mother."
+
+With a kiss and a squeeze, Marjorie was off, swinging a strap-full of
+books till they all tumbled on the ground, and then picking them up
+again.
+
+"I'll help you, Mops," said King, who had followed her down the path.
+"What a tumble-bug you are!"
+
+"Yes, I am. Say, King, do you believe Delight will go with us?"
+
+"Don't know and don't care. She's a Flossy Flouncy, anyway. Too dressy
+and fiddle-de-dee for me!"
+
+"Oh, you don't know her. I think she's going to be real nice."
+
+"All right. You can have her. Hi! there's Bunny Black; let's run."
+
+Run they did, and Marjorie flew over the ground quite as fast as Kingdon
+did.
+
+"Hey, Bunny, wait a minute!" So Bunny waited, and then all three trudged
+on to school; Marjorie in the middle, while they talked over the fun of
+the coming sleigh-ride.
+
+Mr. Adams, who was the father of Dorothy, Kitty's chum, took the young
+people on a straw-ride every winter, if the sleighing happened to be
+good just at the right time.
+
+The trip was always made out to Ash Grove, the pleasant farm home of Mr.
+Adams' aunt, and the old lady heartily welcomed the crowd of laughing
+children that invaded her quiet abode.
+
+After school, Marjorie and King and Kitty ran home to eat a hearty
+luncheon, and get ready for the great event.
+
+It was a perfect winter day; crisp, clear air, bright sunshine, fine
+sleighing, and no wind.
+
+"Mothery," called Marjorie, as she entered the house, "where are you?"
+
+"Here I am, dear, in the library. Don't come a like a whirlwind."
+
+"No'm. I'll come in like a gentle summer breeze," and Midget tripped
+lightly in, waving her skirts as she side-stepped, and greeting her
+mother with a low bow.
+
+"What about Delight?" she asked, at once, "can she go?"
+
+"Yes, she's going," answered Mrs. Maynard, "but I don't think her mother
+wants her to go very much. I went over there this morning, and after
+making my call on the lady, I delivered the invitation for the daughter.
+Delight was most anxious to go, and coaxed her mother so hard, that Mrs.
+Spencer finally said yes, though I'm sure it was against her will."
+
+"Is Delight's cold well?"
+
+"I think so, or her mother wouldn't let her go. She'll be more or less in
+your charge, Marjorie, so do look after her, and don't be thoughtless and
+heedless."
+
+"How do you like Mrs. Spencer, Mother?"
+
+"She's a very pleasant lady, my dear, and Delight is a beautiful child."
+
+"Yes, isn't she pretty! I'm so glad she's going with us."
+
+The straw-ride was of the real old-fashioned sort.
+
+A big box-sleigh, well filled with clean straw, and with plenty of warm
+robes, made a cosy nest for a dozen laughing children.
+
+Except for Delight, the Maynards were the last ones to be picked up, and
+when the jingling sleigh-bells and the chorus of voices was heard, they
+ran out and were gaily greeted by the others.
+
+"Hop in, Kitty; here, I'll help you. In you go, Midget!" and genial Mr.
+Adams jumped the girls in, while King climbed over the side by himself.
+Then Mr. Adams went back to his seat beside the driver, and they crossed
+the street to call for Delight.
+
+She was watching at the window, and came out as the sleigh drove up.
+
+She was so bundled up in wraps and scarfs and veils, that they could
+scarcely see her face at all, but Marjorie introduced her to the others,
+and then Delight cuddled down in the straw close to Marjorie's side.
+
+"Isn't it strange?" she whispered. "I never saw a sleigh before without
+seats in it. Won't we fall out?"
+
+"No, indeed!" answered King, heartily; "that's just what we won't do.
+Unless when we strike a bump."
+
+Just then they did "strike a bump," and Delight was almost frightened at
+the jounce she received.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "it--it takes your breath away,--but--but I think
+it's very nice."
+
+"Plucky girl!" said King, and as that was the highest compliment he could
+pay a girl, Marjorie felt a thrill of pleasure that King was going to
+like Delight after all.
+
+"I think you'd like it better without that awful thick veil over your
+face," King went on. "You can't see the snow through that, can you?"
+
+"No, I can't," said Delight, and she pulled off her veil, leaving her
+roseleaf face, with its crown of golden curls exposed to view. A hood of
+white swansdown was tied under her chin with white ribbons, and her
+smile, though shy, was very sweet.
+
+"That's better!" cried King, approvingly. "Now we can see what you say.
+Whoo-oo!!"
+
+King blew a sudden blast on a tin horn which he drew from his pocket, and
+as all the boys in the sleigh, and some of the girls did the same, the
+noise was deafening.
+
+Delight looked startled, and no wonder, but Marjorie reassured her by
+saying:
+
+"Don't let that scare you. It's the signal that we've crossed the city
+limits. They always toot when we cross the line. I don't, 'cause I hate
+to blow a horn, and anyway, there's noise enough without me."
+
+"I should say there was!" said Delight, for the boys were still tooting
+now and then, and there was gay laughter and shouting.
+
+"Haven't you ever been on a straw-ride before?" asked Ethel Frost, who
+sat the other side of Delight.
+
+"No, I never have. I've always lived in the city."
+
+"Stuck-up!" thought Ethel, but she said nothing. It was a peculiar but
+deep-seated notion among the Rockwell children, that any one from the
+city would look down on them and their simple pleasures, and they
+foolishly, but none the less strongly resented it.
+
+And so, poor Delight had unwittingly said the worst thing she could say
+by way of her own introduction.
+
+"Do you like the city best?" said Harry Frost, who sat opposite the
+girls.
+
+"I don't know yet," said Delight, honestly; "it's all so different here."
+
+This was not helping matters, and Harry only said "Huh!" and turned to
+talk to King.
+
+Ethel, too, seemed uninterested in the city girl, and as Marjorie felt
+herself, in a way, responsible for the little stranger, she spoke up,
+loyally:
+
+"Of course she can't tell yet, but of course she will like Rockwell as
+soon as she gets more used to it, and if she doesn't like the Rockwell
+boys and girls, it'll be their own fault. So there, now!"
+
+"I do like them," said Delight, with her shy little smile; "and I think I
+can get used to those awful horns that they blow."
+
+"Good for you, Flossy Flouncy!" cried King, and the nickname so suited
+the pretty, dainty little girl, that it clung to her ever after.
+
+But though she tried, Delight couldn't seem to adopt the ways of
+the other children. They were a hearty, rollicking crowd, full of
+good-natured chaff, and boisterous nonsense, and Delight, who had
+lived much alone, was bewildered at their noise and fun.
+
+But she slipped her hand from her pretty white muff, and tucked it into
+Marjorie's, who gave her a squeeze that meant sympathy and encouragement.
+
+Midget was beginning to realize that the more she saw of Delight, the
+better she liked her. And the brave way in which the little girl met the
+coolness and indifference that were shown her, roused Marjorie's sense of
+justice, and she at once began to stand up for her.
+
+And when Marjorie Maynard stood up for anybody, it meant a great deal to
+the youthful population of Rockwell. For Midget was a general favorite,
+and since Gladys was gone there were several girls who would gladly have
+stepped into her place in Marjorie's affections. They had begged to share
+her desk at school, but Midget didn't want any one to do that, so she
+still sat alone each day.
+
+And now, she had this new girl under her wing, and she was beginning to
+make it felt that she was Delight's champion, and the others could act
+accordingly.
+
+"Do you like coasting?" said Ethel Frost, as they passed a fine hill
+dotted with boys and girls and sleds.
+
+"Yes, I love it!" replied Delight, her blue eyes sparkling as she watched
+the sleds fly downhill.
+
+"Why, Flossy Flouncy!" cried King; "you couldn't go coasting! I don't
+believe you've ever tried it!"
+
+"I never did but once," said Delight, "and then the hill wasn't very
+good, but it was fun. I'd love to go on a hill like that."
+
+"Would your mother let you?" said Marjorie doubtfully.
+
+"No, I don't believe she would. But I'd coax her till she had to."
+
+"That's right," said King. "We'll go to-morrow, and then you'll see what
+real coasting is."
+
+It was not a very long ride to their destination, and at last the sleigh
+turned in at a farm entrance and passed through a long winding avenue of
+trees to the house.
+
+It was an old yellow farmhouse, big and capacious, and in the doorway
+stood a smiling-faced little old lady awaiting them.
+
+This was Miss Adams, Dorothy's grand-aunt, and called Auntie Adams by all
+the children who visited her. They all tumbled out of the sleigh, and ran
+laughing into the house.
+
+Each was greeted by Miss Adams, and cries of "Where's Ponto?" and "Oh,
+here's Polly!" and "Hello, Tabby," were heard.
+
+"This is Delight Spencer," said Marjorie, as she presented her to Miss
+Adams; "she's a new friend of mine, and Mr. Adams said I might bring
+her."
+
+"I'm very glad to see you, my dear," said Miss Adams, kissing the wistful
+little face; "you are welcome to the old farm."
+
+"I've never seen a farmhouse before," said Delight, as she glanced round
+at the old mahogany furniture and brass candlesticks shining in the
+firelight from the big fireplace; "and, oh, isn't it beautiful!"
+
+Miss Adams was much pleased at this honest compliment to her old home,
+and she patted Delight's shoulder, as she said: "I'm sure we shall be
+great friends, you and I. Run away now, with Marjorie, and lay off your
+wraps in the north bedroom."
+
+The girls went up the short turning staircase, and into a quaint
+old-fashioned bedroom, with four-poster bed, chintz hangings, and fine
+old carved furniture.
+
+"Isn't it strange?" said Delight, looking about. "I suppose the ladies
+who used to live here are dead and gone. I mean, the old ancestors of
+Miss Adams. Let's play we're them, Marjorie. You be Priscilla and I'll be
+Abigail."
+
+"Not very pretty names," said Midget, doubtfully.
+
+"Oh, yes, they are. I'll call you Prissy and you call me Abby. I'll be
+knitting, and you can be spinning on that spinning-wheel."
+
+The others had gone downstairs, but forgetting all about them, Delight
+sat herself stiffly in one of the high-backed old chairs, and knitted
+industriously, with invisible yarn and only her own slender little
+fingers for needles.
+
+Always ready for make-believe play Marjorie sat at the
+spinning-wheel,--on the wrong side, to be sure, but that didn't matter.
+
+"Are you going to the ball at Squire Harding's?" said Delight, in a prim
+voice.
+
+"Yes, that I am," said Marjorie. "Half the county will be there. I shall
+wear my blue brocade, with collar of pearls."
+
+"How fair thou wilt look! I have but my crimson taffeta turned and made
+over. But I have a new wimple."
+
+"What is a wimple, Delight?"
+
+"I don't know exactly, but they wore them once. We're not sisters you
+know, I'm just calling on you; I'm quite poor. Ah, Prissy, I would I
+could achieve a new gown for the ball. My lady Calvert will be there, and
+she is of the quality, forsooth."
+
+"Aye, Abby, but thou art more beautiful in thy ragged garb, than she in
+her stiff satins."
+
+"Sayest thou so? Thou dost but flatter. But among all my noble ancestors,
+the Adamses, there was never a woman aught but fair; or a man aught but
+brave!"
+
+Delight said this in a high, stilted voice, and as she sat primly in the
+straight-backed old chair, knitting away at nothing, she presented a
+funny, attractive little picture.
+
+Miss Adams, who had come in search of the girls, paused at the door, and
+heard Delight's words.
+
+"You dear child!" she cried; "you dramatic small person! What are you two
+doing?"
+
+"We fell to playing, Miss Adams," said Marjorie, "and we forgot to go
+downstairs."
+
+"We couldn't help it," supplemented Delight. "This old room and dear old
+furniture just made me think I really was a Colonial Dame, so we played
+we were."
+
+"You're a treasure!" said Miss Adams, clasping Delight in her arms. "As
+for Midget, here, she's always been my treasure, too. I think some day
+you two little girls must come and visit me, all by yourselves, will
+you?"
+
+"Yes, indeed we will."
+
+"But now, come downstairs, and join the games down there."
+
+Down they went, and found the gay party playing Fox and Geese.
+
+Marjorie was an adaptable nature, and equally well pleased with any game,
+so she flung herself into the circle, and ran about as gaily as any one.
+But Delight shrank away from the frolic, and asked to be allowed to look
+on.
+
+"No, indeed, Flossy Flouncy!" cried Harry Frost. "You must play our
+games, if you want us to like you. Come on, we won't hurt you."
+
+"Come on in, the water's fine!" called King, and Delight reluctantly took
+the place assigned her.
+
+She tried to do as the others did, but long practice had made them alert
+and skillful, while she was inexperienced at such sports. She became
+bewildered at the quick changes of position, and as a result was soon
+caught, and had to be the "Fox."
+
+Then the situation was hopeless, for it was impossible for Delight to
+catch any of the quick-witted and quick-moving "geese," who darted in and
+out, tapping her shoulder, when she should have tapped theirs, and
+teasing her for being slow.
+
+They were not intentionally rude, these gay-spirited young people, but a
+girl who couldn't play Fox and Geese seemed to them a justifiable butt
+for ridicule. Determined to succeed, Delight ran from one to another,
+arriving just too late every time. The unfamiliar exercise wearied her,
+her cheeks glowed pink with mortification at her repeated failures, and
+her breath came quickly, but she was plucky and kept up her brave
+efforts.
+
+Kingdon saw this, and admired the spirit she showed.
+
+"Look here, Flossy Flouncy," he said, not unkindly, "you've been Fox long
+enough; now I'll be Fox, and you sit down on the sofa and get rested."
+
+Delight looked at him gratefully, and without a word she went and sat on
+the sofa and Miss Adams came and sat by her and put her arm round the
+trembling child. Soon after this, the game was stopped because supper was
+announced.
+
+Delight sat between Marjorie and King, and though she ate but little she
+enjoyed seeing the delicious country viands that were served.
+
+Little chicken pies, a whole one to each person; flaky biscuits, and
+golden butter; home-made ice cream and many sorts of home-made cakes and
+jellies and preserves. The hungry children disposed of an enormous
+quantity of these pleasant things, but Miss Adams was not surprised at
+their appetites, for this was an annual experience with her.
+
+After supper, they sang songs. Miss Adams sat at her old-fashioned square
+piano, and played some well-known songs in which they all joined.
+
+"I heard a song on a phonograph, the other day," said Harry Frost; "it
+was about a bonnie lassie. Do you know that, Miss Adams?"
+
+"No, dear boy, I don't. I'm sorry. Can't you sing it without the piano?"
+
+"No, I don't know it. But I'd like to hear it again."
+
+"I know it," said Delight, timidly. "If you want me to, I'll sing it."
+
+She looked so shy and sweet, that there was nothing forward about her
+offer, merely a desire to please.
+
+"Do, my dear," said Miss Adams, giving her place to the child.
+
+Delight sat down at the piano, and striking a few chords, began: "I know
+a lassie, a bonnie, bonnie lassie," and sang it through in a sweet,
+childish voice.
+
+"That's it!" cried Harry, as she finished. "Jiminy! but you're a singer,
+all right."
+
+There was much applause, and requests for more songs, but Delight,
+overcome by attracting so much attention, turned bashful again and
+couldn't be persuaded to sing any more.
+
+However, it was time to go home, so they all bundled into their wraps
+again, and clambered into the sleigh.
+
+Delight was quiet all the way home, and sat with her hand clasped close
+in Marjorie's.
+
+"Good-night," she whispered, as she got out at her own house.
+"Good-night, Marjorie dear. I thank you for a pleasant time, but I don't
+believe I want to go again."
+
+"Oh, yes, you will," Marjorie whispered back. "Don't be so easily
+discouraged."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+MAKING VALENTINES
+
+"Now, what do you think of a girl like that?" Marjorie exclaimed, as she
+finished a description of Delight's behavior on the straw-ride.
+
+"I think she's a little lady," said Mr. Maynard, with a twinkle of
+amusement in his eye, "and she was pretty well frightened by the noisy
+fun of the Rockwell young people."
+
+"But, Father," said King, "we didn't do anything wrong, or even rude, but
+of course, you can't go on a straw-ride and sit as still as if you were
+in church, can you?"
+
+"No," said Mrs. Maynard, taking up King's cause; "children are meant to
+be noisy, especially on a sleighing party. But I wouldn't worry about the
+little Spencer girl. If she continues to live here, she can't help doing
+as you young Romans do, after a time."
+
+"Ho!" cried King. "Imagine Flossy Flouncy tumbling around like our
+Midget. Hi, there, sister, you're it!"
+
+King clapped Marjorie on the back and then ran around the dining-table,
+from which they had all just risen.
+
+"Kit's it!" cried Marjorie, clapping Kitty in turn.
+
+"Nope, I had my fingers crossed," said Kitty, exhibiting her twisted
+digits, and calmly walking out of the room, her arm through her father's.
+
+"All right, I'll catch you, King," and Marjorie made a dive for him.
+
+He was wary, and just as she nearly touched him, he stooped and slid
+under the table. After him went Midget, and of course, scrambled under
+just as King dodged up on the other side.
+
+Out came Marjorie, flying after King, who raced up the front stairs and
+down the back ones, landing in the kitchen with a wild shriek of, "Hide
+me, Ellen, she's after me!"
+
+"Arrah, ye bletherin' childher!" cried Ellen, "ye're enough to set a
+saint crhazy wid yer rally poosin'! In there wid ye, now!"
+
+The good-natured Irishwoman pushed King in a small cupboard, and stood
+with her back against the door.
+
+"What'll ye have, Miss Marjorie?" she said, as Midget rushed in half a
+minute later.
+
+"Where's King?" asked Marjorie, breathless and panting.
+
+"Masther King, is it? I expict he's sthudyin' his schoolbooks like the
+little gintleman he is. Shkip out, now, Miss Marjorie, dear, I must be
+doin' me work."
+
+"All right, Ellen, go on and do it. Go on now, why don't you? Why don't
+you, Ellen? Do you have to stand against that door to keep it shut?"
+
+"Yes, Miss, the,--the lock is broke, sure."
+
+"Oh, is it? Well, you go on to your work, and I'll hold the door shut for
+a while."
+
+"Och, I cuddent think of throublin' ye, Miss. Run on, now, happen yer
+mother is wantin' ye."
+
+"Happen she isn't. Scoot, Ellen, and give me a chance at that door."
+
+Unable to resist Midget's wheedling glance, the big Irishwoman moved away
+from the door, and Marjorie threw it open, and disclosed King, calmly
+sitting on a flour barrel.
+
+As he was fairly caught, the game was over, and the two, with intertwined
+arms rejoined the family.
+
+"Good race?" said Mr. Maynard, looking at the exhausted runners.
+
+"Fine!" said Marjorie. "You see, Father, Delight has no brothers or
+sisters, so how could she be very racketty? She couldn't play tag with
+her mother or father, could she?"
+
+"I think you'd play tag with the Pope of Rome, if you couldn't get any
+one else."
+
+"That would be rather fun," said Midget, laughing, "only I s'pose his
+robes and things would trip him up. But I do believe he'd like it. I
+don't 'spect he has much fun, anyway. Does he?"
+
+"Not of that sort, probably. But, Midget mine, there are other sorts of
+fun beside tearing up and down stairs like a wild Indian."
+
+"Yes, and one sort is playing 'Authors'; come on, and have a game, will
+you, Father?"
+
+"I'll give you half an hour," said Mr. Maynard, looking at his watch.
+"That's all I can spare for my wild Indians this evening."
+
+"Goody!" cried Midget, "half an hour is quite a lot. Come on, King and
+Kit. Will you play, Mother?"
+
+"Not now, I have some things I must attend to. I'll take Father's place
+when his half-hour is up."
+
+So they settled down to "Authors," which was one of their favorite games,
+and of which they never tired. "Delight would like this," said Marjorie,
+as she took a trick; "she's fond of quiet games. Mother, may I go over
+to-morrow afternoon and make valentines with her?"
+
+"Yes, if you like, dearie," replied Mrs. Maynard.
+
+"May I go, too?" said Kitty.
+
+"No, Kitty, I want you at home to-morrow. The seamstress will be cutting
+your new frock, and you must be here to try it on when she wants you."
+
+"All right, Mother. May I ask Dorothy here, then?"
+
+"Yes, if you like. But you must stay in the house."
+
+"Yes'm, we will."
+
+The Maynards were obedient children, and though sometimes disappointed,
+never demurred at their parents' decrees. They had long ago learned that
+such demurring would do no good, and that to obey pleasantly made things
+pleasanter all round.
+
+After luncheon the next day, Marjorie got ready to go to spend the
+afternoon with Delight.
+
+She wore her new plaid dress trimmed with black velvet and gilt buttons,
+and as red was the prevailing color in the plaid, her dark curls were
+tied up with a big red bow.
+
+Very pretty she looked as she came for her mother's inspection.
+
+"Am I all right, Mother?"
+
+"Yes, Midget mine; you look as spick and span as a nice little Queen of
+Sheba. Now don't slide down the banisters, or do anything hoydenish. Try
+to behave more as Delight does."
+
+"Oh, I'm bound to be good over there. And making valentines is nice,
+quiet work. May I stay till six, Mother?"
+
+"No, come home at half-past five. That's late enough for little Queens of
+Sheba to stay away from their mothers."
+
+"All right, I'll skip at five-thirty. Good-bye, Mothery dearie."
+
+With a kiss and a squeeze Marjorie was off, and Mrs. Maynard watched her
+from the window, until she disappeared through the Spencers' doorway.
+
+"I'm so glad to see you!" said Delight, as Marjorie came dancing into her
+room. "Everything's all ready. You sit over there."
+
+So Midget sat down opposite her friend at a long, low table, on which
+were all the valentine materials laid out in readiness.
+
+"What beautiful things," cried Midget; "but I don't know how to make
+valentines."
+
+"I'll show you. It's awfully easy, and lots of fun."
+
+It was easy for Delight. Her deft little fingers pinched up bits of
+tissue paper into charming little rosebuds or forget-me-nots, and her
+dainty taste chose lovely color combinations.
+
+Marjorie's quick wits soon caught the idea, and though not quite so
+nimble-fingered as Delight, she soon showed an inventive originality that
+devised novel ideas.
+
+Sometimes they only took the round or square lace papers, and mounted
+them on cards, and added little scrap pictures of doves or cupids or
+flowers.
+
+Then some of them were quite different. Delight cut a heart-shaped piece
+of cardboard, and round the edge dabbled an irregular border of gold
+paint. The inside she tinted pink all over, and on it wrote a loving
+little verse in gilt letters.
+
+This, though simple, was such a pretty card, that Marjorie made one like
+it, adding a garland of roses across it, which made it prettier still.
+
+Then they made pretty ones of three panel cards. To do this they took an
+oblong card, and cut it half through with a penknife in such a way that
+it divided the card into three parts, the outside two shutting over the
+middle one like window blinds over a window.
+
+The card would stand up like a screen, and they decorated each panel with
+posies and verses.
+
+"What are you going to do with all these valentines?" asked Midget, as
+they were busily working away at them.
+
+"Half are yours," said Delight, "and half are mine. We can each send them
+wherever we please. Of course I'll send most of mine to friends in New
+York; I haven't any friends here."
+
+"Indeed you have!" cried Midget. "Don't be silly. You've three Maynard
+friends, to begin with; and all the boys and girls are your friends, only
+you don't know them yet. I'll tell you what to do. You send valentines to
+all the Rockwell children,--I mean all our crowd, and they'll just love
+'em. Will you?"
+
+"Why, yes, if you think I can when I don't know them very well. I can
+easily make enough for them and my New York set too."
+
+"Yes, do; I'll help you, if I get mine done first. And anyway, it's 'most
+two weeks before Valentine's day."
+
+"Oh, there's plenty of time. Look, isn't this a pretty one?"
+
+Delight held up a card on which she had painted with her water colors a
+clouded blue sky effect. And on it, in a regular flight, she had pasted
+tiny birds that she found among the scrap pictures.
+
+"Lovely!" said Midget; "you ought to have a verse about birds on it."
+
+"I don't know any verse about birds, do you?"
+
+"No; let's make one up."
+
+"Yes, we could do that. It ought to go some-thing like this: 'The
+swallows tell that Spring is here, so flies my heart to you, my dear.'"
+
+"Yes, that's nice and valentiny,--but it isn't Spring in February."
+
+"No, but that's poetic. Valentines have to be love-poems, and Spring is
+'most always in a love-poem."
+
+"Yes, I s'pose it is. I'd like to do some funny ones. I'm not much good
+at sentimental poetry. I guess I'll do one for King. Here's a picture of
+a bird carrying a ring in its beak. Ring rhymes with King, you know."
+
+"Oh, yes, make one of those limerick things: 'There was a young fellow
+named King,--'"
+
+"That's the kind I mean. Write that down while I paste. Then write: 'Who
+sent to his lady a ring.' Now what next?"
+
+"Something like this: 'He said, "Sweet Valentine, I pray you be mine."
+And she answered him, "No such a thing!"'"
+
+"Oh, that's a good one. Do send that to your brother. But it hasn't much
+sense to it."
+
+"No, they never have. Now, I'll make one for Kit: 'There was a dear
+girlie named Kit, who was having a horrible fit.'"
+
+"That isn't a bit valentiny."
+
+"No, I know it. This is a funny one. We'll make her another pretty one.
+'When they said, "Are you better?" she wrote them a letter in which she
+replied, "Not a bit!"'"
+
+"I think that's sort of silly," said Delight, looking at the rhymes she
+had written at Midget's dictation.
+
+"Yes, I know it is," returned Marjorie, cheerfully. "It's nonsense, and
+that's 'most always silly. But Kit loves it, and so do I. We make up
+awful silly rhymes sometimes. You don't know Kitty very well yet, do you?
+She's only ten, but she plays pretend games lovely. Better'n I do. She
+has such gorgeous language. I don't know where she gets it."
+
+"It comes," said Delight, with a far-away look in her eyes. "I have it
+too. You can't remember that you've ever heard it anywhere; the words
+just come of themselves."
+
+"But you must have heard them, or read them," said practical Midget.
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. But it doesn't seem like memory. It's just as if you
+had always known them. Sometimes I pretend all to myself. And I'm a
+princess."
+
+"I knew you would be! Kit said so too. She likes to be a princess. But I
+like to be a queen. You might as well be, you know, when you're just
+pretending."
+
+"Yes, you'd be a splendid queen. You're so big and strong. But I like to
+be a princess, and 'most always I'm captive, in a tower, waiting for
+somebody to rescue me."
+
+"Come on, let's play it now," said Marjorie, jumping up. "I'm tired of
+pasting things, and we can finish these some other day. You be a captive
+princess, and I'll be a brave knight coming to rescue you."
+
+But just then Mrs. Spencer appeared, carrying a tray on which were
+glasses of milk, crackers, and dear little cakes, and the two girls
+concluded they would postpone their princess play till a little later.
+
+"I'm so bothered," said Mrs. Spencer, in her tired, plaintive voice, as
+she sat down with the children; "I cannot get good servants to stay with
+me here. I had no trouble in the city at all. Does your mother have good
+servants, Marjorie?"
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Spencer, I think so. They're the ones we've always had."
+
+"Well, mine wouldn't come with me from the city, so I had to get some
+here. And the cook has a small child, and to-day he's ill,--really quite
+ill,--and the waitress is helping the cook, and so I had to bring up this
+tray myself."
+
+"Can't I help you in some way, Mrs. Spencer?" asked Marjorie,
+impulsively. It was her nature to be helpful, though it would never have
+occurred to Delight to make such an offer.
+
+"No, dear child; there's nothing you could do. But the doctor is down
+there now, to see the little one, and I fear if the child is very ill,
+cook will have to leave, and what to do then, I don't know."
+
+"Perhaps the child is only a little sick," said Midge, who wanted to be
+comforting, but did not know quite what to say to comfort a grown-up
+lady.
+
+"We'll soon know, after the doctor makes his decision," said Mrs.
+Spencer. "Oh, that's Maggie crying. I'm afraid it's a bad case."
+
+Sure enough, sounds of loud sobbing could be heard from the direction of
+the kitchen, and Mrs. Spencer hurried away to learn what had happened.
+
+"It must be awful," said Marjorie, "to be a cook and have your little boy
+ill, and no time to attend to him, because you have to cook for other
+people."
+
+Delight stared at her.
+
+"I think the awful part," she said, "is to have your cook's baby get ill,
+so she can't cook your dinner."
+
+"Delight, that is selfish, and I don't think you ought to talk so."
+
+"I don't think it's selfish to want the services of your own servants.
+That's what you have them for,--to cook and work for you. They oughtn't
+to let their little boys get sick."
+
+"I don't suppose they do it on purpose," said Midge, half laughing and
+half serious; "but I'm sorry for your cook anyway."
+
+"_I'm_ sorry for _us_! But, gracious, Marjorie, hear her cry! The little
+boy must be awfully sick!"
+
+"Yes, indeed! She's just screaming! Shall we go down?"
+
+"No, I'm sure mother wouldn't like us to. But I don't feel like playing
+princess, do you?"
+
+"No, not while she screams like that. There goes the doctor away."
+
+From the window, the girls saw the doctor hasten down the path, jump into
+his electric runabout, and whiz rapidly away.
+
+They could still hear sobbing from the kitchen, and now and then the
+moans of the baby.
+
+At last, Mary, the waitress, came to take the tray away.
+
+"What is the matter with Maggie's little boy, Mary?" asked Delight.
+
+"He's sick, Miss Delight."
+
+"But why does Maggie scream so?"
+
+"It's near crazy she is, fearin' he'll die."
+
+"Oh," said Marjorie, "is he as bad as that! What's the matter with him,
+Mary?"
+
+"He,--he has a cold, Miss."
+
+"But babies don't die of a cold! Is that all that ails him?"
+
+"He has,--he has a fever, Miss."
+
+"A high fever, I s'pose. Rosy Posy had that when she had croup. Is it
+croup, Mary?"
+
+"No, Miss,--I don't know, Miss, oh, don't be askin' me!"
+
+With a flurried gesture, Mary took the tray and left the room.
+
+"It's very queer," said Delight, "they're making an awful fuss over a
+sick baby. Here's the doctor back again, and another man with him."
+
+The two men came in quickly, and Mrs. Spencer met them at the front door.
+They held a rapid consultation, and then the doctor went to the telephone
+and called up several different people to whom he talked one after
+another.
+
+And then Mrs. Spencer went to the telephone.
+
+"Oh," said Delight, looking at Marjorie with startled eyes, "she's
+calling up father in New York. It must be something awful!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+MARJORIE CAPTIVE
+
+It _was_ something awful. The doctor diagnosed the child's case as
+diphtheria, and proceeded at once to take the steps ordered by the Board
+of Health in such cases.
+
+Mrs. Spencer wanted to send the little one to the hospital, but Doctor
+Mendel said that would not be allowed. So the house was to be
+disinfected, and a strict quarantine maintained until all danger should
+be past.
+
+"The woman and her child must be put in certain rooms, and not allowed
+to leave them," said the doctor; "and no one in the house must go out of
+it, and no one out of it may come in."
+
+"What!" cried Mrs. Spencer, in dismay, thinking of Marjorie. And Marjorie
+and Delight, unable to keep away any longer, came into the room just in
+time to hear the doctor's statement.
+
+"What's the matter, mother?" cried Delight. "Tell me about it! Is
+Maggie's little boy going away?"
+
+"You tell her, Doctor Mendel," said Mrs. Spencer; I can't."
+
+"Why, Marjorie Maynard?" exclaimed the doctor, "are you here? Well, this
+is a pretty kettle of fish!"
+
+Although the Spencers had never seen Doctor Mendel before, he was the
+Maynards' family physician, and he realized at once the great misfortune
+of Marjorie's presence in the infected house.
+
+"Yes, I'm here," said Midget; "can't I go home?"
+
+"No, child," said Doctor Mendel, gravely; "you cannot leave this house
+until all danger of infection is over. That will be two weeks at least,
+and perhaps more."
+
+"And can't Mr. Spencer come home?" asked Mrs. Spencer.
+
+"No; unless he stays here after he comes in. He can not go back and forth
+to New York every day."
+
+Mrs. Spencer looked utterly bewildered. Accustomed to depend upon her
+husband in any emergency, she felt quite unable to meet this situation.
+
+"And there is danger of these two girls having diphtheria?" she said, in
+a scared voice, as if anxious to know the worst at once.
+
+"There is grave danger, Mrs. Spencer, for all in the house. But we will
+hope by careful treatment to avoid that. The quarantine, however, is
+imperative. You must not let your servants or your family go out into the
+street, nor must you allow any one except myself to come in."
+
+"Oh, Doctor Mendel," cried Marjorie, "how can I see Mother?"
+
+"You can't see her. I'm sorry, Marjorie, but you simply can not go home,
+nor can she come here."
+
+"And I'll have to have diphtheria, and die, without seeing her at all!"
+
+"Tut, tut! You're not going to have diphtheria, I hope. These precautions
+are necessary, because of the law, but you're by no means sure to take
+the disease."
+
+"Delight will," said Mrs. Spencer, in a hopeless tone. "She's so
+delicate, and so subject to throat affections. Oh, how can I stand all
+this without any one to help me? Can't I have a trained nurse?"
+
+Doctor Mendel almost laughed at the lady's request.
+
+"Of course you may, as soon as there's a patient for her to take care of.
+But you surely don't want one when there's no illness in this part of the
+house."
+
+"Why, so there isn't!" said Mrs. Spencer, looking greatly relieved. "I'm
+so bewildered I felt that these two children were already down with
+diphtheria."
+
+"It's a very trying situation," went on Doctor Mendel, looking kindly at
+Mrs. Spencer. "For I do not see how your husband can come home, if he
+wants to continue at his business. And surely, there's no use of his
+coming home, so long as there's no illness in your immediate family. He
+would better stay in New York."
+
+"Oh, not in New York," cried Mrs. Spencer. "He can come to Rockwell every
+night, and stay at the hotel or some place."
+
+"Yes, that would be better; then you can telephone often."
+
+"And I can telephone to Mother!" said Midget, who was beginning to see a
+brighter side.
+
+"Yes, of course," agreed the doctor. "I'll go there, and tell her all
+about it."
+
+"_Won't_ she be surprised!"
+
+"Yes, I fancy she will! Do you want her to send you some clothes?"
+
+"Why, yes; I s'pose so. I never thought of that! Oh, I'd rather go home!"
+
+The bright side suddenly faded, and Midget's curly head went down in her
+arm, and she shook with sobs. A vision of home, and the dear family
+around the dinner-table, while she was exiled in a strange house, was too
+much for her.
+
+"Now, Marjorie," said the doctor, "you must bear this bravely. It is
+hard, I know, but Mrs. Spencer is by far the greatest sufferer. Here she
+is, with two children to look after, and her husband shut out from his
+home, and her servants in a state of unreasoning terror. I think you two
+girls should brace up, and help Mrs. Spencer all you can."
+
+"I think so, t-too," said Midget, in a voice still choking with tears,
+and then Delight began to cry.
+
+Her crying wasn't a sudden outburst like Marjorie's, but a permanent sort
+of affair, which she pursued diligently and without cessation.
+
+Mrs. Spencer paid little attention to the two weeping children, for the
+poor lady had other responsibilities that required her attention.
+
+"What about Maggie, Doctor?" she asked.
+
+"She must stay here, of course. And, as she can't go to a hospital, she
+will probably prefer to stay here. Your waitress may desert you, but I
+will tell her if she goes, it is in defiance of the law, and she will be
+punished. I trust, Mrs. Spencer, that there will be no more illness here,
+and the worst will be the inconvenience of this quarantine. At any rate
+we will look at it that way, so long as there are no signs of infection.
+Now, I will go over to the Maynards and explain matters to them, and I
+will meet Mr. Spencer at the train, and he will telephone you at once.
+Meantime, I will myself superintend the disinfection of this house. And
+remember, while there is danger for the two little girls, I do not think
+it probable that they will be affected."
+
+"I hope not," said Mrs. Spencer, sighing. "And here's another thing,
+Doctor. I expect a governess for Delight, a Miss Hart, who is to come
+with Mr. Spencer on the train this evening. She should be warned."
+
+"Yes, indeed. I'll meet them at the train, and attend to that for you.
+Probably she'll remain at the hotel over night, and go back to the city
+to-morrow."
+
+"She could go to our house to stay," said Marjorie. She was still crying,
+but she loved to make plans. "Then she could telephone the lessons over
+to Delight, and I could learn a little too. Oh, I won't have to go to
+school for two weeks!"
+
+This was a consolation, and the happy thought entirely stopped Marjorie's
+tears.
+
+Not so Delight. She cried on, softly, but steadily, until Midget looked
+at her with real curiosity.
+
+"What do you cry that way for, Delight?" she said. "It doesn't do any
+good."
+
+Delight looked at her, but wept industriously on.
+
+"Oh, come," said Midget, "let's look for the bright side. Let's pretend
+I've come to visit you for two weeks, and let's have some fun out of this
+thing."
+
+"How can you talk so?" said Delight, through her tears. "We may both be
+dead in two weeks."
+
+"Nonsense!" cried Doctor Mendel; "no more of that sort of talk! If you're
+so sure of having diphtheria, I'll send you to the hospital at once."
+
+Delight did not know the doctor as well as Marjorie did, and this
+suggestion frightened her.
+
+She tried to stop crying, and smile, and she succeeded fairly well.
+
+"That's better," said the doctor. "Now, I'm going across the street.
+Marjorie, what message do you want to send your mother? Of course she'll
+send over some clothes and things. You can have anything you want sent,
+but don't have needless things, for they must all be disinfected later,
+and it might harm your best clothes."
+
+"Oh, I shan't want my best clothes, since we can't have company or
+parties," said Midget, interested now, in spite of herself. "Tell Mother
+to send my night things; and my red cashmere for to-morrow morning, and
+my other red hair ribbons, and my pink kimono, and my worsted slippers,
+and that book on my bureau, the one with the leaf turned down, and some
+handkerchiefs, and--"
+
+"There, there, child, I can't remember those things, and your mother will
+know, anyway,--except about the book with the leaf turned down,--I'll
+tell her that. And you can telephone her, you know."
+
+"Oh, so I can! That will be almost like seeing her. Can't I telephone
+now?"
+
+"No, I'd rather tell her about it myself. Then I'll tell her to call you
+up, and you can give her your list of hair ribbons and jimcracks."
+
+"All right then. Hurry up, Doctor, so I can talk to her soon."
+
+Doctor Mendel went away, and Marjorie and Delight sat and looked at each
+other. Mrs. Spencer had gone to the kitchen to arrange for the comfort of
+the distressed mother, and the little girls were trying to realize what
+had happened.
+
+"I'm glad you're here," said Delight, "for I'd be terribly lonely without
+you, in all this trouble."
+
+Midget was silent. She couldn't honestly say she was glad she was there,
+and yet to say she was sorry seemed unkind.
+
+"Well, as long as I am here," she said at last, "I'm glad you're glad.
+It's all so strange! To be here staying in Gladys's house, and Gladys not
+here, and I can't get away even if I want to,--why, I can't seem to get
+used to it."
+
+"It's awful!" said Mrs. Spencer, coming in from the kitchen. "I hope your
+mother won't blame me, Marjorie; I'm sure I couldn't help it."
+
+"Of course she won't blame you, Mrs. Spencer. She'll only be sorry for
+you."
+
+"But she'll be so worried about you."
+
+"Yes'm; I s'pose she will. But maybe, if I do take it, it will be a light
+case."
+
+"Oh, don't talk of light cases! I hope you won't have it at all,--either
+of you."
+
+After what seemed to Marjorie a long time of waiting, her mother called
+her up on the telephone.
+
+"My dear little girl," said Mrs. Maynard, "how shall I get along without
+you for two weeks?"
+
+"Oh, Mother," said Marjorie, "you have the others, but I haven't anybody!
+How shall I get along without you?"
+
+Marjorie's voice was trembling, and though Mrs. Maynard was heart-broken
+she forced herself to be cheerful for Midget's sake.
+
+"Well, dearie," she said, "we must make the best of it. I'll telephone
+you three times a day,--or at least, some of us will,--and I'll write you
+letters."
+
+"Oh, will you, Mother? That will be lovely!"
+
+"Yes, I'll write you every day. You can receive letters although you
+can't send any. Now, I want you to be my own brave little daughter, and
+not only try to be cheerful and pleasant yourself, but cheer up Mrs.
+Spencer and Delight."
+
+"Yes, Mother, I will try. I feel better already, since I've heard your
+voice."
+
+"Of course you do. And Father will talk to you when he comes home, and
+to-morrow Kitty and King can talk, and you'll almost feel as if you were
+at home."
+
+"Yes,--but oh, Mother, it's awful, isn't it?"
+
+"No, it isn't awful at all, unless you get ill But we won't cross that
+bridge until we come to it. Now, I'll send over a suitcase to-night, and
+then I can send more things to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, Mother. And put in your picture, won't you? The one on my
+mantelpiece, I mean. Then I'll have it to kiss good-night to."
+
+Mrs. Maynard's voice choked a little, but she said:
+
+"Yes, dear, I will. Good-bye for now; we mustn't monopolize Mrs.
+Spencer's telephone."
+
+"Good-bye," said Midget, reluctantly, and hung up the receiver, feeling
+that now she was indeed an exile from her home. But not long after, she
+was called to the telephone again, and her father's cheery voice said:
+
+"Why, Marjorie Midget Mopsy Maynard! What's this I hear about your
+deserting your home and family?"
+
+"Oh, Father dear, isn't it terrible!"
+
+"Why, I don't know as it is. You'll have a fine visit with your little
+friend, and you won't have to go to school, and I should think you'd have
+a fine time! But some people are never satisfied!"
+
+"Now, don't tease, Father. You know I'll just go crazy with homesickness
+to see you all again!"
+
+"Oh, well, if you really do go crazy, I'll put you in a nice pretty
+little lunatic asylum that I know of. But before your mind is entirely
+gone, I want you to have a good time with Delight, and I'll help all I
+can."
+
+"I don't see how you can help much, if I can't see you."
+
+"You don't, eh? Well, you'll find out, later on. But just now, I'm going
+to give you three rules, and I want you to obey them. Will you?"
+
+"Of course I will, Father. What are they?"
+
+"First, never think for a moment that you're going to catch that sore
+throat that the cook's little boy has. I don't think you are, and I don't
+want to think so. Promise?"
+
+"Yes, I promise. What next?"
+
+"Next; never think that you're to stay over there two weeks. Never use
+the words at all. Just think each day, that you're merely staying that
+one night, and that you're just staying for fun. See?"
+
+"Yes; I'll promise, but it won't be easy."
+
+"Make it easy then. I'll help you. And third, don't feel sorry for
+yourself."
+
+"Oh, Father, I do!"
+
+"Well, don't! If you want to feel sorry for somebody, choose some one
+else, a poor Hottentot, or a lame kangaroo, or even your old father. But,
+mind, it's a rule, you're not to feel sorry for Marjorie Maynard."
+
+"That's a funny rule. But I'll try to mind it."
+
+"That's my own dear daughter. Now, to begin. As you're to stay with
+Delight to-night, we're sending over your night things. Go to bed early
+and sleep well, so you can wake bright and fresh and have fun playing all
+day to-morrow."
+
+All this sounded so gay and pleasant that Marjorie was really very much
+cheered up, and replied gaily:
+
+"All right, Daddy; I'll do just as you say. And will you call me up
+to-morrow morning before you go to New York?"
+
+"Yes, of course I will. Now, good-night,--just the same as a good-night
+at home."
+
+"Good-night, Father," and Midget hung up the receiver again.
+
+By this time Delight had stopped her crying, and Mrs. Spencer had become
+a little more resigned to the unpleasant state of things. The servants
+had consented to stay, for the present, and their decision was more due
+to Doctor Mendel's hints about the law, than their own loyalty to Mrs.
+Spencer.
+
+Then Doctor Mendel had met Mr. Spencer at the railroad station, and had
+explained affairs to him.
+
+Although it seemed very hard it was thought advisable by all interested,
+that Mr. Spencer should not go to his home at all. His business, which
+was large and important, required his presence every day, and to take two
+weeks away from it just at that time would be disastrous in effect.
+
+Mr. Maynard, who was present at the interview, invited Mr. Spencer to
+stay at his home until the quarantine should be raised, and this offer of
+hospitality was gratefully accepted.
+
+"It seems only fair," said Mr. Maynard, "that we should entertain you, as
+you have our Marjorie as a guest at your house."
+
+"An unwilling guest, I fear," said Mr. Spencer, with a sad smile.
+
+"But ready to make the best of it, as we all must be," rejoined Mr.
+Maynard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+MISS HART HELPS
+
+Miss Hart, Delight's new governess, who came out from New York with Mr.
+Spencer, listened to the doctor's story with a grave face.
+
+"And I think, Miss Hart," said Doctor Mendel, in conclusion, "that you
+would better stay in Rockwell over night, and return to the city
+tomorrow."
+
+"I _don't_ think so!" said Miss Hart, with such emphasis that the three
+men looked at her in surprise.
+
+"If you will go home with me," said Mr. Maynard, "Mrs. Maynard will give
+you a warm welcome, and then you can decide to-morrow on your further
+plans."
+
+"No," said Miss Hart, who seemed to be a young woman of great decision of
+character, "I shall go straight to Mrs. Spencer's. I am engaged to go
+there to-night, and I want to go. I am not at all afraid of the
+diphtheria, and as Delight is perfectly well, she can begin her lessons
+just as we planned to do. This will keep her interested and prevent her
+from worrying as much as if she were idle. And then, if anything should
+happen, I will be there to assist Mrs. Spencer."
+
+"Thank you, Miss Hart," said Mr. Spencer, shaking her hand. "You are a
+noble woman, and I shall be so glad to have you there with my wife. I've
+been trying to think how I could get a companion for her, but none of her
+city friends would enter the house, nor could they be expected to. And,
+of course, no Rockwell neighbors can go in. But you will be a tower of
+strength, and I shall be immensely relieved to have you there."
+
+Doctor Mendel was pleased too, at the turn affairs had taken, for he
+feared Mrs. Spencer would break down under the nervous strain, if she had
+to bear her trouble alone.
+
+So when Mr. Maynard took Mr. Spencer to his own home, Doctor Mendel took
+Miss Hart to Mrs. Spencer's.
+
+"I've brought you another visitor," he cried, cheerily, as he entered the
+quarantined house.
+
+"Why, Doctor," said Mrs. Spencer, "you said nobody could come in!"
+
+"No, not if they're to go out again. But Miss Hart has come to stay."
+
+"Oh, how splendid!" cried Mrs. Spencer, "are you really willing to do
+so?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," answered Miss Hart. "And it looks to me as if I should
+have two pupils instead of one." She looked kindly at Marjorie, who
+smiled in return, though she did not at all feel sure that she wanted
+lessons added to her other troubles.
+
+But Miss Hart seemed to ignore the fact that there were any troubles for
+anybody.
+
+She talked pleasantly, even gaily, with Mrs. Spencer. She chatted merrily
+with Delight and Marjorie; and she even went out and spoke very kindly to
+the afflicted Maggie. And it was partly due to her suggestions that Mary,
+who was acting as cook, added some special dainties to the menu, and sent
+up an unusually good dinner. The party that gathered round the table was
+not a sad one, but this was due to the combined efforts of Miss Hart and
+Marjorie.
+
+Midget remembered her father's rules, and pretended she was just staying
+with the Spencers for one night. She was so fond of "pretending," that
+this part came easy. Then she had put out of her mind the idea that she
+might have the diphtheria, and moreover, she was trying really hard not
+to be sorry for herself. In consequence of all this, she was gay and
+merry, and she was helped to be so by Miss Hart, who was good cheer
+itself.
+
+The new governess was a pretty little woman, with smooth dark hair, and
+snapping black eyes, that seemed to read people's innermost thoughts.
+Although not entirely unacquainted with the Spencers, she had never
+before lived with them, but had been governess in the family of a friend
+of theirs. She was anxious for this new position, and Mrs. Spencer, who
+had been pleased to have her come, was doubly glad to have her in this
+emergency.
+
+"We won't begin to-morrow," said Miss Hart, when the subject of lessons
+was broached, "but I think we'll begin next day. We'll spend to-morrow
+getting acquainted, and learning to like each other. You'll join the
+class, won't you, Marjorie?"
+
+"Yes, I think I'd like study that way," said Midge; "but I don't like
+school."
+
+"I'll guarantee you'll like study in our class," said Miss Hart, smiling;
+"you'll be sorry when school hours are over."
+
+Midge could hardly think this, but of one thing she was certain, that
+Miss Hart would be a pleasant teacher.
+
+Soon after dinner, Marjorie's suitcase arrived.
+
+James brought it over, and set it on the front porch and rang the bell.
+Then he went away before the door was opened, as he had been instructed
+to do.
+
+When Marjorie opened the bag she found a note from each of the family,
+and they were all written in verse.
+
+She read them aloud to the Spencer household and soon they were all
+laughing at the nonsense rhymes.
+
+Her mother had written:
+
+"Midget, Midget,
+Don't be in a fidget.
+Don't be sad and tearful,
+Just be gay and cheerful;
+Don't be sadly sighing,
+For the days are flying,
+And some day or other
+You'll come home to
+MOTHER."
+
+"Why, that's as good as a valentine," said Miss Hart, as Midget finished
+reading the lines.
+
+"So it is!" said Marjorie, smiling; "I'm going to pretend they're all
+valentines. Here's father's."
+
+"Marjorie, Midget Mopsy,
+The world is tipsy-topsy!
+  When I am here
+  And you are there
+I feel all wipsy-wopsy!
+But soon you will be home once more,
+And all will be as it was before;
+So make the most of your fortnight's stay,
+For I cannot spare you another day!"
+
+By this time Delight's spirits had risen to such an extent that she
+exclaimed:
+
+"I think it's splendid to have Marjorie here for two weeks!"
+
+"We'll make a picnic of it," said Miss Hart. "You girls won't often have
+two weeks together, so we must cram all the pleasure into it we can."
+
+Cramming pleasure into this dreadful time was a new idea to Delight, but
+she was willing to agree to it, and Marjorie said:
+
+"I think we can be happy if we try. But we have to forget the bad parts
+and only remember the good."
+
+"That's it," said Miss Hart. "Now read us another of your letters. I'm
+sure they're good parts."
+
+"This one is from King,--that's Kingdon, my brother," explained Marjorie,
+as she took up the next note.
+
+"Mops is a captive Princess now,
+She can't get out of prison;
+But when it's time to let her go,
+Oh, won't she come home whizzin'!
+This poetry isn't very good,
+  But it's the best that I can sing,
+I would do better if I could,
+  And I'm your loving brother
+KING."
+
+"What a jolly boy!" said Miss Hart, "I'd like to know him."
+
+"You will," said Midget, "after our two weeks' picnic is over." She
+smiled at Miss Hart as she said this, accepting her idea of making a
+picnic of their enforced imprisonment.
+
+"Now, here's Kitty's," she went on. "Kitty's not a very good poet, but
+she always wants to do what the rest do."
+
+"Marjorie Maynard nice and sweet,
+Has to stay across the street.
+Fourteen days and fourteen nights,
+Visiting her friend Delight.
+Marjorie Maynard, nice and pretty,
+Come home soon to sister
+KITTY."
+
+"Why, I think that's fine," said Miss Hart. "Your family are certainly
+devoted to you."
+
+"Yes, they are," said Midget. "There's another,--Rosy Posy,--but she's
+only five. She can't write poetry."
+
+"Can you?" asked Miss Hart.
+
+"Yes, I can make as good verses as Kit; but not as good as King or
+father. We always make verses for each other on birthdays, so we get lots
+of practise. And we made some valentine verses this afternoon, didn't we,
+Delight?"
+
+"Yes, that is, you did. But, oh, Marjorie, we can't send those
+valentines! Nothing like that can go out of the house!"
+
+"Oh, pshaw, I don't believe they could do any harm."
+
+"Well, Doctor Mendel said we mustn't send a letter of any sort, and a
+valentine is just the same, you know."
+
+"What do you think, Miss Hart?" asked Marjorie.
+
+"I'm afraid you can't send them, my dear. But we'll ask the doctor.
+Perhaps, if they're disinfected--"
+
+"Oh, horrors!" cried Midget; "a valentine disinfected! Of all things!
+Why, it would smell of that horrid sulphur stuff instead of a sweet
+violet scent! Nobody would want that sort of a valentine."
+
+"No, they wouldn't," agreed Delight. "Oh, dear, it's too bad!"
+
+"Never mind, Delight," said Marjorie. "We can send valentines to each
+other, and to Miss Hart, and to your mother. Oh, yes, and to Maggie and
+Mary. I guess that's about all. But everybody can send them to us! That
+will be lots of fun! It seems selfish, doesn't it, to get lots of
+valentines and not send any? But it isn't selfish, because we can't help
+it."
+
+"I can send to my friends in New York," said Delight, thoughtfully, "by
+letting father get them and send them. I can telephone him a list, you
+know. It isn't as much fun as if I picked them out myself, but I don't
+want the girls to think I've forgotten them."
+
+"If they know about the quarantine, they won't open the valentines,"
+suggested Marjorie; "they'll think they came from this house, and they'll
+be frightened."
+
+"That's so," agreed Delight; "unless they look at the postmark and it's
+New York."
+
+"Well, then, if they don't know your father's writing, they'll never know
+they came from you anyway."
+
+"No, they won't. But then people never are supposed to know who sends a
+valentine."
+
+"Then what's the good of sending any?"
+
+"Oh, it always comes out afterward. I hardly ever get any that I don't
+find out who they're from, sooner or later."
+
+"Nor I either. Well, we'll do the best we can."
+
+Marjorie sighed a little, for Valentine Day was always a gay season in
+the Maynard home, but she had promised not to be sorry for herself, so
+she put the thought away from her mind.
+
+As Mrs. Spencer's room opened into Delight's, she decided to give that to
+Marjorie, and take the guest room herself. She felt sorry for the child,
+held there by an unfortunate accident, and determined to do all she could
+to make her stay pleasant. And she thought, too, it would please Delight
+to have Marjorie in the room next her own. So when the two girls went
+upstairs that night, they were greatly pleased to find themselves in
+communicating rooms.
+
+"We can pretend, while we're getting ready for bed," said Delight, and
+soon, in her little kimono, and bedroom slippers, she stalked into
+Midget's room and said, with despairing gestures:
+
+"Fellow princess, our doom hath befell. We are belocked in a prison grim,
+and I fear me, nevermore will we be liberated."
+
+"Say not so, Monongahela," answered Marjorie, clasping her hands.
+"Methinks ere morning dawns, we may yet be free."
+
+"Nay, oh, nay! the terrible jailer, the Baron Mendel, he hast decreed
+that we stay be jailed for two years."
+
+"Two years!" gasped Midget, falling in a pretended swoon. "Ere that time
+passes, I shall be but a giggling maniac."
+
+"Gibbering, you mean. Aye, so shall I."
+
+"Well, stop your gibbering for to-night," said Mrs. Spencer, who came in,
+laughing; "you can gibber to-morrow, if you like, but now you must go to
+bed. Fly, fair princess, with golden hair!"
+
+Delight flew, and Mrs. Spencer tucked Marjorie up in bed, in an effort to
+make the child feel at home.
+
+There wasn't the least resemblance between Mrs. Spencer's ways, and those
+of her own mother, but Marjorie was appreciative of her hostess's kind
+intent, and said good-night to Mrs. Spencer very lovingly. At first,
+there was a strong inclination to cry a little, but remembering she must
+not be sorry for herself, Marjorie smiled instead, and in a few moments
+she was smiling in her sleep. Next morning, she put on the morning dress
+that had come over in the suitcase, and went downstairs with Delight.
+
+"It's just like having a sister," said Delight. "I do believe, Marjorie,
+I'm glad all this happened. Of course, I don't mean I'm glad Maggie's
+baby is so sick, but I'm glad you're staying here."
+
+"I can't quite say that, Delight, but as I am here, I'm not going to fuss
+about it. There's the telephone! perhaps it's Father!"
+
+It was Mr. Maynard, and his cheery good-morning did Marjorie's heart
+good.
+
+"All serene on the Rappahannock?" he asked.
+
+"All serene!" replied Marjorie. "The verses were fine! I was so glad to
+get them."
+
+"Did you sleep well? Have you a good appetite for breakfast? Did you
+remember my rules? May I send you a small gift to-day? Do you think it
+will rain? Don't you want your kitten sent over?"
+
+"Wait,--wait a minute," cried Marjorie. "Your questions come so fast I
+can't answer them,--but, yes, I would like a small gift to-day."
+
+"Aha! I thought you'd pick out that question of all the bunch to answer.
+Well, you'll get it when I return from the great city. Meantime, be good
+and you'll be happy, and I'm proud of you, my little girl."
+
+"Proud of me! Why?"
+
+"Because I can tell by your voice that you're cheerful and pleasant, and
+that's all I ask of you. Good-bye, Mopsy, I must go for my train. The
+others will talk to you later on."
+
+"Good-bye, Father, and I would like the kitten sent over."
+
+Marjorie left the telephone with such a happy face that Miss Hart, who
+had just come downstairs, said:
+
+"I'm sure you had pleasant messages from home."
+
+"Yes, indeed," said Midget. "It was Father. He's always so merry and
+jolly."
+
+"And you inherit those traits. I like fun, too. I think we shall be great
+friends."
+
+"I think so too," agreed Midget, and then they all went to breakfast.
+
+The day started auspiciously enough, but after Midge had telephoned to
+the rest of her family there seemed to be nothing to do. Delight had a
+headache, brought on probably by the excitement of the day before, and
+she didn't feel like playing princess.
+
+There was no use finishing the valentines, for Doctor Mendel said they
+must not send them to anybody.
+
+Miss Hart was in her own room, and the morning dragged.
+
+Marjorie almost wished she could go to school, and she certainly wished
+she could go out to play. But the doctor's orders were strict against
+their leaving the house, so she sat down in the library to read a
+story-book. Delight wandered in.
+
+"I think you might entertain me," she said; "my head aches awfully."
+
+"Shall I read to you?" asked Midget. She had had little experience with
+headaches, and didn't quite know what to do for them.
+
+"Yes, read a fairy story."
+
+So Midget good-naturedly laid aside her own book, and read aloud to
+Delight until her throat was tired.
+
+"Go on," said Delight, as she paused.
+
+"I can't," said Midget, "for it hurts my throat."
+
+"Oh, pshaw, what a fuss you are! I think you might read; it's the only
+thing that makes me forget my headache."
+
+So Marjorie began again, and read until Delight fell asleep.
+
+"I'm glad I kept on," thought Midget to herself; "though it did make my
+throat all scratchy. But I mustn't be sorry for myself, so I'm glad I was
+sorry for Delight. Maybe a little nap will make her head better."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+GOLDFISH AND KITTENS
+
+Leaving Delight asleep, Marjorie wandered out to the dining-room, where
+Mrs. Spencer was assisting the waitress in her duties. As Maggie was not
+allowed to leave the sick-room, Mary, the waitress, did the cooking, and
+this left many smaller offices to be performed by Mrs. Spencer.
+
+"Can't I help you?" asked Marjorie, who was at her wits' end for
+occupation.
+
+Usually, she could entertain herself for any length of time, but the
+strangeness of her surroundings, and a general feeling of homesickness
+made books or games unattractive.
+
+"Why, no, Marjorie; little girls can't help," said Mrs. Spencer, who
+never thought of calling on Delight for assistance.
+
+"Oh, yes, I can; truly I can do lots of things. Mayn't I put away that
+silver?"
+
+"No; you don't know where it belongs. But if want to help me, can't you
+attend to Delight's canary? He hasn't had his bath, and Mary is too busy
+to do it. Do you know how?"
+
+"Oh, yes; I often give our bird his bath, and clean his cage, and give
+him fresh seed and water. Where shall I find the birdseed?"
+
+"In the small cupboard in Delight's playroom, the room where the bird is,
+you know."
+
+"Yes'm, I know."
+
+Marjorie ran upstairs, interested in this work, and taking the cage from
+its hook, set it on the table. She found the little bathtub and filled it
+with water of just the right warmth, and taking the upper part of the
+cage from its base, set it over the tub, which she had carefully placed
+on a large newspaper.
+
+"There," she said, "spatter away as much as you like, while I cut a nice
+round paper carpet for your cage. I don't know your name, but I shall
+call you Buttercup, because you're so yellow."
+
+The bird cocked his black eye at her, and seemed to approve of his new
+attendant, for he hopped into his bath, and splashed the water
+vigorously.
+
+"You're a nice little Buttercup," went on Midget; "some bad little
+birdies won't jump in and bathe. There, I think that's enough; you'll
+wash all your feathers off! Here you go back home again."
+
+She replaced the cage, filled the seed and water vases, and hung it back
+on its hook.
+
+Midget was a capable little girl, and she took away the bathtub, and
+tidied up all traces of her work, as neatly as Mary could have done. Then
+she looked around for more worlds to conquer.
+
+She saw the aquarium, a small round one, all of glass, in which were four
+goldfish.
+
+"I think I'll give you a bath," said Midget to the fishes, laughing at
+the absurdity of the idea. But as she stood watching them, she observed
+the green mossy slime that covered the stones and shells at the bottom of
+the aquarium, and it occurred to her that it would be a good idea to
+clean them.
+
+"There's a small scrubbing-brush in the bathroom," she said to herself,
+"and I can scrub them clean, and put in fresh water, and Mrs. Spencer
+will be so surprised and pleased."
+
+She was about to bring a bowl of water from the bathroom to put the
+stones in while she scrubbed them, but she thought since there was
+already water in the glass, she might as well use that, and then get
+clean water for the fishes afterward.
+
+"But I don't believe they'll like the soap," she thought, as, scrub-brush
+in hand, she was about to dip the soap in the water. "So I'll lay them
+aside while I scrub."
+
+Marjorie had never had any goldfish, and knew nothing about them, so with
+no thought save to handle them gently, she took them out of the water,
+and laid them on the table in the sunlight.
+
+She caught them by the simple process of using her handkerchief as a
+drag-net, and with great care, laid them softly down on the felt
+table-cover.
+
+"There, fishies," she said, "don't take to your heels and run away. I'll
+soon clean up these dirty old stones and shells, then I'll give you nice
+fresh water, and put you back home again."
+
+The stones and shells did look better, according to Midget's way of
+thinking, after she had vigorously scrubbed the moss from them. They
+shone glistening, and white, and she put them back in the aquarium and
+filled it with clean water, and then went for the fish.
+
+"Ah, taking a nap, are you?" she said, as the four lay quiet on the
+table. But when she carefully put them back in the water, and they didn't
+wriggle or squirm a bit, she knew at once they were dead.
+
+"You horrid things!" cried Midget, "what did you go and die for, just
+when I was fixing up your cage so nice? You're not really dead, are you?
+Wake up!"
+
+She poked and pinched them to no avail.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "whenever I try to be good and helpful, I'm bad
+and troublesome. Now I must go and tell Mrs. Spencer about it. I wonder
+what she'll say. I wish I could tell mother first, but they'd hear me on
+the telephone. Perhaps the old things will come alive again. Maybe
+they've only fainted."
+
+But no sign of life came from the four victims, who calmly floated on top
+of the water, as if scorning the clean white stones and shells below.
+They looked so pretty and so pathetic, that Marjorie burst into tears,
+and ran downstairs in search of Mrs. Spencer. That lady heard the tale
+with a look of mingled amusement and annoyance on her face.
+
+"I've heard you were a mischievous child," she said, "but I didn't think
+you'd begin your pranks so soon."
+
+"But it wasn't pranks, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, earnestly. "I truly
+wanted to be help, fill, and I fixed the bird's cage so nicely, I thought
+I'd fix the fishes' cage too."
+
+"But you must have known that fishes die out of water."
+
+"No'm; I didn't. At least,--it seems to me now that I ought to have known
+it, but I didn't think about it when I took 'em out. You see, I never had
+any goldfish of my own."
+
+"Well, don't worry about it, child. It can't be helped now. But I suppose
+Delight will feel terribly. She was so fond of her goldfish."
+
+"I'm sure Father will let me give her some more," said Midget, "but I
+suppose she won't care for any others."
+
+She went back to the library, where she had left Delight asleep, and
+found her just waking up.
+
+"Delight," she said, wanting to get it over as soon as possible, "I've
+killed all four of your goldfish!"
+
+"On purpose?" said Delight, still sleepy and uncomprehending.
+
+"No, of course not. It was an accident. I just laid them on the table
+while I cleaned the aquarium, and they fainted away and staid fainted. I
+guess they must have been sick before."
+
+"No, they weren't. They were awfully frisky yesterday. I think you're
+real mean, Marjorie."
+
+"I'm awful sorry, Delight, truly I am. But I'm 'most sure Father will let
+me give you other fish to make up for them."
+
+"But they won't be the same fish."
+
+"No, of course not. But we'll get prettier ones."
+
+"Oh, no, you needn't get any fish at all. I'd rather have a kitten."
+
+"Oh, I can get you a kitten easily enough. James always knows where to
+get them. What color do you want?"
+
+"Gray; Maltese, you know. Will he get it to-day?"
+
+"I'll ask Mother to ask him to-day. He'll get it soon, I know."
+
+"All right; I'd heaps rather have that than fish. I'm tired of goldfish,
+anyway. You can't cuddle them like you can kittens. And I never had a
+kitten."
+
+"You didn't! Why, Delight Spencer! I never heard of a girl that had
+_never_ had a kitten! I'll ask Mother to see about it right away. Do you
+want two?"
+
+"Yes, as many as I can have. I ought to have four to make up for those
+goldfish."
+
+"You can have four, if your mother'll let you," said Midget. "Ask her."
+
+"Oh, she'll let me. She never says no to anything I want. Does your
+mother?"
+
+"Yes, often. But then, I want such crazy things."
+
+"So do I. But I get them. Go on and see about the kittens."
+
+So Midget went to the telephone and told her mother the whole story about
+the goldfish.
+
+Mrs. Maynard was surprised at Marjorie's ignorance of fish's habits, but
+she didn't scold.
+
+"I do think," she said "that you should have known better; but of course
+I know you didn't intend to harm the fish. And anyway we won't discuss it
+over the telephone. I'll wait until we're together again."
+
+"You'll have to keep a list of all my mischief, Mother," said Midget,
+cheerfully; "and do up the scolding and punishing all at once, when I get
+home."
+
+"Yes, but don't get into mischief while you're over there. Do try,
+Marjorie, to behave yourself."
+
+"I will, Mother, but I'm so tired of staying here I don't know what to
+do. Delight heard me say that, but I can't help it. I expect she's tired
+of having me here."
+
+"I am not!" declared Delight; "now ask her about the kittens."
+
+So Marjorie asked her mother about the kittens, and Mrs. Maynard promised
+to ask James to see if he couldn't find some that would be glad of a good
+home.
+
+And so anxious was James to please his dear Miss Marjorie, and so
+numerous were kittens among James' circle of personal acquaintances, that
+that very afternoon, a basket was set on the Spencer's porch and the door
+bell was rung.
+
+Mary opened the door and saw the basket, well-covered over.
+
+"The saints presarve us!" she cried; "sure, it's a baby!"
+
+She brought the basket in, and Mrs. Spencer turned back the folded
+blanket, and disclosed four roly-poly kittens all cuddled into one heap
+of fur.
+
+"Oh!" cried Delight, "did you ever see anything so lovely! Midget, I'm
+_so_ glad you killed the goldfish! These are a million times nicer."
+
+"But you could have had these too," said Marjorie; "and anyway, I'll
+probably put these in the aquarium and drown them, by mistake!"
+
+"Indeed you won't!" said Delight, cuddling the little balls of fur. "Oh,
+Mother, aren't they _dear?_"
+
+"They are very cunning," answered Mrs. Spencer, "and I'm glad you have
+them. Though four seems a good many. Don't you want to give them some
+milk?"
+
+"Oh, yes; and we'll teach them all to eat from one saucer, so they'll be
+loving and affectionate."
+
+The kittens showed no desire to be other than affectionate, and amicably
+lapped up milk from the same saucer, without dispute.
+
+There was one white, one Maltese, one black, and one yellow, and Marjorie
+felt sure James had chosen the prettiest he could find.
+
+"Now to name them," said Delight. "Let's choose lovely names. You'll help
+us, won't you, Miss Hart?"
+
+"You ought to call the white one Pop Corn," said Miss Hart, "for it's
+just like a big kernel of freshly popped corn."
+
+"I will," said Delight, "for it's like that; but as that's a hard name to
+say, I'll call her Poppy for short. A white poppy, you know. Now the
+black one?"
+
+"Blackberry," suggested Marjorie, and that was the chosen name. The
+yellow one was named Goldenrod, and the gray one Silverbell, and the four
+together made as pretty a picture as you could imagine. The girls spent
+an hour or more playing with them and watching their funny antics, and
+then Miss Hart proposed that they, crochet balls of different color for
+each little cat.
+
+Mrs. Spencer provided a box of worsted and they chose the colors.
+
+A red ball was to be made for Blackberry, and a light blue one for Poppy.
+Goldenrod was to have a yellow one, and Silverbell a pink one.
+
+Miss Hart showed the girls how to crochet a round cover, hooping it to
+form a ball, and then stuffing it tightly with worsted just before
+finishing it.
+
+They made the four balls and tried to teach the kittens to remember their
+own colors. But in this they were not very successful, as the kittens
+liked the balls so much they played with any one they could catch.
+
+When Mr. Maynard came home, true to his word, he sent Marjorie a gift.
+
+The bell rang, and there on the doorstep lay a parcel.
+
+It proved to contain two picture puzzles.
+
+"Oh, goody!" cried Midget. "These are just what I wanted. I've heard
+about them, but I've never had any, and Father told me last week he'd get
+me one. One's for you, Delight, and one's for me. Which do you choose?"
+
+"Left hand," said Delight, as Marjorie's hands went behind her.
+
+"All right; here it is."
+
+"But I don't know how to do puzzles. I never saw one like this."
+
+"If you knew how to do it, it wouldn't be a puzzle. I don't know either;
+but we'll learn."
+
+"I'll show you how to begin," said Miss Hart. "Wait a minute."
+
+She went out to the dining-room, and returned with two trays, oblong,
+square-cornered and of fairly good size.
+
+"Make your puzzles on these," she said, "and then you can carry them
+around while working on them, if you want to. You can't do that, if you
+make them right on the table."
+
+So with the trays on the table in front of them the girls began. Each
+puzzle had about a hundred and fifty pieces, and they were not easy ones.
+Miss Hart showed them how to find pieces that fitted each other; but
+would not help them after the first two or three bits were joined, for
+she said the fun was in doing it themselves.
+
+"But I can't!" said Midge, looking perfectly hopeless; "these pieces are
+all brownish and greenish and I don't know what they are."
+
+"I see," said Delight, her eyes sparkling; "you must find a face, or
+something that you can tell what it is, and start from that."
+
+"But there isn't any face here," said Midget; "here's one eye,--if it
+_is_ an eye!"
+
+"Begin with that," advised Miss Hart. "Find some more of a face to go
+with it."
+
+"Oh, yes; here's a nose and lips! Why, it just fits in!"
+
+Soon the two children were absorbed in the fascinating work. It was a
+novelty, and it happened to appeal to both of them.
+
+"Don't look at each other's picture," warned Miss Hart, "and then, when
+both are done, you can exchange and do each other's. It's no fun if you
+see the picture before you try to make it."
+
+"Some pieces of mine must be missing," declared Marjorie; "there's no
+piece at all to go into this long, narrow curving space."
+
+Miss Hart smiled, for she had had experience in this pastime.
+
+"Everybody thinks pieces are lost at some stage of the work," she said;
+"never mind that space, Marjorie, keep on with the other parts."
+
+"Oh!" cried Delight. "I can see part of the picture now! It's going to be
+a--"
+
+"Don't tell!" interrupted Miss Hart; "after you've each done both of
+them, you can look at the finished pictures together. But now, keep it
+secret what the pictures are about."
+
+So the work went on, and now and then a chuckle of pleasure or an
+exclamation of impatience would tell of the varying fortunes of the
+workers.
+
+"Oh!" cried Delight. "I just touched a piece to straighten it, and I
+joggled the whole thing out of place!"
+
+Then Miss Hart showed them how to take a ruler and straighten the
+edges,--if the edges were built; and how to crowd a corner down into a
+corner of the tray, and so keep the pieces in place. So engrossed were
+the two that Mrs. Spencer had difficulty to persuade them to come to
+dinner.
+
+"Oh, Mother," cried Delight, "do wait till I find this lady's other arm.
+I'm sure I saw it a moment ago."
+
+And Marjorie lingered, looking for a long triangle with a notch in the
+end.
+
+But at last they set their trays carefully away, at different ends of the
+room, and even laid newspapers over them, so they shouldn't see each
+other's puzzle.
+
+"That's the most fun of any game I ever played," said Delight, as she
+took her seat at the table.
+
+"I think so too," said Midge; "are there many of them made, Miss Hart?"
+
+"Thousands, my dear. And all, or nearly all, different."
+
+"When we finish these," said Delight, "I'll ask my father to bring us
+some more. I just love to do them."
+
+"You musn't do too many," said Miss Hart; "that stooping position is not
+good for little girls if kept up too long at a time."
+
+"It did make the back of my neck ache," said Delight; "but I don't mind,
+it's such fun to see the picture come."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+A PLEASANT SCHOOL
+
+The next day lessons began. Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer agreed that it
+would be better for the two little girls to have regular school hours,
+and Delight was glad to have Marjorie at her lessons with her.
+
+Midge herself was not overpleased at the prospect, but her parents had
+approved of the plan, and had sent over her school-books.
+
+The play-room was used as a school-room, and a pleasant enough room it
+was.
+
+When the girls went in, at nine o'clock, it didn't seem a bit like
+school.
+
+Miss Hart, in a pretty light house-dress, sat in a low rocker by the
+window. There was nothing suggesting a desk, and on a near-by table were
+a few books and a big bowl of flowers.
+
+The girls sat where they chose, on the couch or in chairs, and as Midget
+told her mother afterward, it seemed more like a children's party than
+school.
+
+"First, let's read a story," said Miss Hart, and Marjorie's eyes opened
+wider than ever.
+
+"Aren't we going to have school to-day?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, Marjorie; this is school. Here are your books,--we'll each have
+one."
+
+She gave them each a copy of a pretty looking book, and asked them to
+open it at a certain page.
+
+Then Miss Hart read aloud a few pages, and the girls followed her in
+their own books. Then she asked Delight to read, and as she did so, Miss
+Hart stopped her occasionally to advise her about her manner of reading.
+But she did this so pleasantly and conversationally that it didn't seem
+at all like a reading-lesson, although that's really what it was.
+
+Marjorie's turn came next, and by this time she had become so interested
+in the story, that she began at once, and read so fast, that she went
+helter-skelter, fairly tumbling over herself in her haste.
+
+"Wait, Marjorie, wait!" cried Miss Hart, laughing at her. "The end of the
+story will keep; it isn't going to run away. Don't try so hard to catch
+it!"
+
+Marjorie smiled herself, as she slowed down, and tried to read more as
+she should.
+
+But Miss Hart had to correct her many times, for Midget was not a good
+reader, and did not do nearly so well as Delight.
+
+And though Miss Hart's corrections were pleasantly and gently made, she
+was quite firm about them, and insisted that Marjorie should modulate her
+voice, and pronounce her words just as she was told.
+
+"What a fine story!" exclaimed Delight, as they finished it.
+
+"Oh, isn't it great!" exclaimed Marjorie; "do you call this book a
+'Reader,' Miss Hart?"
+
+"Yes, I call it a Reader. But then I call any book a Reader that I choose
+to have my pupils read from. This book is named 'Children's Stories From
+English Literature,' so you see, by using it, we study literature and
+learn to read at the same time. The one we read to-day, 'The Story of
+Robin Hood,' is a story you ought to know well, and we will read other
+versions of it some day. Now, we will talk about it a little."
+
+And then they had a delightful talk about the story they had read, and
+Miss Hart told them many interesting things concerning it, and the
+children asked questions; and then Miss Hart had them read certain
+portions of the story again, and this time she said Marjorie read much
+better.
+
+"For I understand now," said Midge, "what I'm reading about. And, oh,
+Miss Hart, I'm crazy to tell King all about it! He'll just love to play
+Robin Hood!"
+
+"Yes," said Miss Hart, "it makes a fine game for out-of-doors. Perhaps
+some day we'll find a story that we can play indoors, while you poor
+prisoners are kept captive."
+
+Marjorie gave a little sigh of pleasure. If this was school, it was a
+very nice kind of school indeed, but she supposed that arithmetic and
+spelling and all those horrid things were yet to come. And sure enough,
+Miss Hart's next words brought sorrow to her soul.
+
+"Now, girlies, we'll just have a little fun with arithmetic. I happen to
+know you both hate it so perhaps if you each hold a kitten in your arm it
+will cheer your drooping spirits a little."
+
+Marjorie laughed outright at this. Kittens in school were funny indeed!
+
+"Yes," said Miss Hart, laughing with Marjorie, "it's like Mary's little
+lamb, you know. I never forgave Mary's teacher for turning him out I
+think kittens in school are lovely. I'll hold one myself."
+
+Then the girls drew nearer to Miss Hart, who had a large pad of paper and
+a pencil but no book.
+
+And how she did it Marjorie never knew, but she made an example in
+Partial Payments so interesting, and so clear, that the girls not only
+understood it, but thought it fun.
+
+Miss Hart said she was Mr. White, and the two children were Mr. Brown and
+Mr. Green, who each owed her the same sum of money. It was to be paid in
+partial payments, and the sharp and business-like Mr. White insisted on
+proper payments and exact interest from the other two gentlemen, who vied
+with each other to tell first how much was due Mr. White. There was some
+laughing at first, but the fun changed to earnest, and even the kittens
+were forgotten while the important debts were being paid.
+
+"Good-bye, arithmetic!" cried Miss Hart, as the problem entirely
+finished, and thoroughly understood, she tossed the papers aside;
+"good-bye for to-day! Now, for something pleasanter."
+
+"But that was pleasant, Miss Hart," said Marjorie; "I didn't think
+arithmetic could _ever_ be pleasant, but it was. How did you make it so?"
+
+"Because I had such pleasant little pupils, I think," said Miss Hart,
+smiling. "Now for a few calisthenics with open windows."
+
+The windows were flung up, and under Miss Hart's leadership they went
+through a short gymnastic drill.
+
+"Doesn't that make you feel good?" said Marjorie, all aglow with the
+exercise, as they closed the windows, and sat down again.
+
+"That's no sort of a drill, really," said Miss Hart; "but it will do for
+to-day. When we get fairly started, we'll have gymnastics that will be a
+lot more fun than that. But now for our botany lesson."
+
+"Botany!" cried Midge; "I've never studied that!"
+
+"Nor I," said Delight, "and I haven't any book."
+
+"Here's the book," said Miss Hart, taking a large white daisy from the
+bowl of flowers on the table.
+
+"How many leaves has it?"
+
+The girls guessed at the number of petals, but neither guessed right.
+Then they sat down in front of Miss Hart, and she told them all about the
+pretty blossom.
+
+She broke it apart, telling them the names of petals, sepals, corolla and
+all the various tiny parts.
+
+The two children looked and listened breathlessly. They could scarcely
+believe the yellow centre was itself made up of tiny flowers.
+
+It was all so interesting and so wonderful, and, too, so new to them
+both.
+
+"Is _that_ botany?" said Marjorie, with wide-open eyes.
+
+"Yes; that's my idea of teaching botany. Text-books are so dry and dull,
+I think."
+
+"So do I," said Midge; "I looked in a botany book once, and it was awful
+poky. Tell us more, Miss Hart."
+
+"Not to-day, dearie; it's one o'clock, and school is over for to-day."
+
+"One o'clock!" both girls exclaimed at once; "it _can't_ be!"
+
+But it was, and as they scampered away to make themselves tidy for
+luncheon, Marjorie said: "Oh! isn't she lovely! Do you always have a
+governess like that, Delight?"
+
+"No, indeed! My last one was strict and stern, and just heard my lessons
+out of books. And if I missed a word she scolded fearfully."
+
+"I never saw anybody like Miss Hart! why that kind of school is play"
+
+"Yes, I think so too. And it's lovely to have you here. It's so much more
+interesting than to have my lessons alone."
+
+"Oh, Miss Hart would make it interesting for anybody, alone or not. But
+I'll be here for two weeks, I suppose. I don't mind it so much if we have
+school like that every day."
+
+"And picture puzzles every evening."
+
+"Yes, and kittens all day long!" Marjorie picked up two or three of the
+furry little balls, that were always under foot, and squeezed them.
+
+At luncheon they gave Mrs. Spencer such a glowing account of their
+"school" that Miss Hart was quite overcome by their praise.
+
+"It's all because they're such attentive pupils," she said modestly.
+
+"No, it isn't," said Mrs. Spencer. "I knew what a kind and tactful
+teacher you were before you came. A little bird told me."
+
+"Now how did the bird know that?" said Miss Hart, smiling, and Midget
+wondered if Miss Hart thought Mrs. Spencer meant a real bird.
+
+Afternoons the governess always had to herself. If she chose to be with
+the family, she might, but she was not called upon for any duties. So
+after Midget and Delight had finished their picture puzzles, and had
+exchanged, and done each other's, time again seemed to hang heavily on
+their hands.
+
+It was really because they felt imprisoned, rather than any real
+restraint. Marjorie wanted to run out of doors and play, and Delight
+didn't know exactly what she did want.
+
+They were allowed to walk on the side piazza, if they chose, but walking
+up and down a short porch was no fun, and so they fidgeted.
+
+"Let's get up a good, big rousing game," said Midget, "a new one."
+
+"All right," said Delight, "let's."
+
+"Can we go all over the house?"
+
+"Yes, all except the attic and kitchen."
+
+The sick child and his mother had been put in two rooms in the third
+story. These were shut off from the main part of the house, and were
+further protected by sheets sprinkled with carbolic acid which hung over
+them.
+
+The children had been warned to keep as far as possible from these
+quarters, but the front of the house was at their disposal.
+
+"Let me see," said Midget, who was doing some hard thinking. "I guess
+we'll play 'Tourists.'"
+
+"How do you play it?"
+
+"I don't know yet. I'm just making it up. We're the tourists, you know;
+and the house, the whole house in an ocean steamer. First, we must get
+our wraps and rugs."
+
+Diligent search made havoc in Mrs. Spencer's cupboards, but resulted in a
+fine array of luggage.
+
+The girls dressed themselves up in Mrs. Spencer's long cats, and Mr.
+Spencer's caps, tied on with motor-veils, made what they agreed was a
+fine tourist costume.
+
+In shawl straps they packed afghans, pillows, and such odds and ends as
+books and pictures, and they filled travellings bags with anything they
+could find.
+
+Loaded down with their luggage, they went down in the front hall, where
+Marjorie said the game must begin.
+
+"Have you ever been on an ocean steamer, Delight?" she asked.
+
+"No; have you?"
+
+"Yes. I haven't sailed on one, you know, but I went on board to see Aunt
+Margaret sail. So I know how they are. This house isn't built just right;
+we'll have to pretend a lot. But never mind that."
+
+"No, I don't mind. Now are we getting on board?"
+
+"Yes, here's the gang plank. Now we go upstairs to the main saloon and
+decks. Be careful, the ship is pitching fearfully!"
+
+Oblivious to the fact that steamers don't usually pitch fearfully while
+in port, the two travellers staggered up the staircase, tumbling
+violently from side to side.
+
+"Oh, one of my children has fallen overboard!" cried Delight, as she
+purposely dropped Goldenrod over the banister.
+
+"Man overboard!" cried Marjorie, promptly. "A thousand dollars reward!
+Who can save the precious child?" Swiftly changing from a tourist to a
+common sailor, Marjorie plunged into the waves, and swam after the
+fast-disappearing Goldenrod. She caught the kitten by its tail, as it was
+creeping under a sofa, and triumphantly brought it back to the weeping
+mother.
+
+"Bless you, good man!" cried Delight, her face buried in her
+handkerchief. "I will reward you with a thousand golden ducats."
+
+"I ask no reward, ma'am; 'twas but my humble duty."
+
+"Say not so! You have rendered me a service untold by gold."
+
+Delight's diction often became a little uncertain, but if it sounded
+well, that was no matter.
+
+"My cabin is forty-two," said Marjorie, who was once more a tourist, on
+her way upstairs.
+
+"Here is a steward," said Delight, "he will show us the way."
+
+The steward was invisible, but either of the girls spoke in his voice, as
+occasion demanded.
+
+"This way, madam," said Midget, as she led Delight to the door of her own
+room. "This is your stateroom, and I hope it will suit you."
+
+"Is it an outside one?" asked Delight, who had travelled on night boats,
+though not across the ocean.
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Outside and inside both. Where is your steamer trunk?"
+
+"It will be sent up, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, ma'am. Very good, ma'am. Now, you can be steward to me, Delight."
+
+"Shure. This way, mum. It's Oirish, I am, but me heart is warrum. Shall I
+carry the baby for ye?"
+
+"Yes," said Midget, giggling at Delight's Irish brogue, which was always
+funny; "but be careful. The child isn't well." The child was Blackberry,
+who was dressed in large white muffler of Mrs. Spencer's pinned 'round
+its neck.
+
+"The saints presarve us, mum! Ye've got the wrong baby! This is a black
+one, mum!"
+
+"That's all right," said Midget "She's only wearing a black veil, to,--to
+keep off the cold air."
+
+"Yis, mum. Now, here's yer stateroom, mum, and 'tis the captain's own. He
+do be givin' it to you, 'cause ye'r such a foine lady."
+
+"Yes, I am;" said Marjorie, complacently. "I'm Lady Daffodil of--of
+Bombay."
+
+"Ye look it! And now if ye'll excuse me, mum, I'll go and get the other
+passengers to rights."
+
+Delight slipped back to her stateroom, and returned with Goldenrod in her
+arms. She met Marjorie in the hall.
+
+"I think I have met you before," she said, bowing politely.
+
+"Yes," said Marjorie, in a haughty voice, "we met at the Earl's ball. I
+am Lady Daffodil."
+
+"Ah, yes, I remember you now. I am the Countess of Heliotrope."
+
+"My dear Countess! I'm so glad to see you again. Are you going across?"
+
+"Why, yes, I think I will."
+
+"I think you'll have to, as the ship has already started. Let us go out
+on deck."
+
+As they were well bundled up, they opened the door and stepped out on the
+second story balcony. It was not unlike a deck, and they went and stood
+by the railing.
+
+"The sea is very blue, isn't it?" said Lady Daffodil, looking down at the
+bare ground with patches of snow here and there.
+
+"Yes, and see the white caps. Oh, we shall have a fine sail. Are you ever
+seasick?"
+
+"No; never! Are you?"
+
+"No; I have crossed eighty-seven times, so I'm used to it. Did you know
+there's a case of diphtheria on board?"
+
+"No, is that so?"
+
+"Yes. Somebody in the steerage, I believe. That's why we're stopped at
+Quarantine."
+
+This struck both girls so funny that they had to stop and giggle at it.
+
+"My precious Goldenrod!" cried the Countess of Heliotrope, "I fear she
+will catch it!"
+
+"You'd better have her vaccinated at once. It's a sure cure."
+
+"I will. But let us go inside, the sea-breeze is too strong out here."
+
+The game seemed full of possibilities, and the tourists were still
+playing it when dinner time came.
+
+So they pretended it was the ship's dining-saloon to which they went, and
+Mrs. Spencer and Miss Hart were strangers, passengers whom they had not
+yet met.
+
+The game once explained to Miss Hart, she grasped it at once, and played
+her part to perfection.
+
+"I should think," she said, finally, "that some such game as this would
+be a fine way to study geography!"
+
+"Now what can she mean by that?" thought Marjorie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+A SEA TRIP
+
+As the days went by, Marjorie became more accustomed to her new
+surroundings, and felt quite at home in the Spencer household.
+
+The baby's illness ran its course and though the child was very sick, the
+doctor felt hopeful that they could keep the other children free from
+infection. Mrs. Spencer felt keenly the trying situation, but Miss Hart
+was so bright and cheerful that she made everybody feel happy.
+
+So, as far as the two little girls were concerned, it was just as if
+Marjorie were merely making a visit to Delight.
+
+The children were becoming very much attached to each other. Delight
+greatly admired Marjorie's enthusiastic, go-ahead ways, and Midget was
+impressed by Delight's quiet way of accomplishing things.
+
+Both were clever, capable children, and could usually do whatever they
+set out to, but Marjorie went at it with a rush and a whirl, while
+Delight was more slow and sure.
+
+But Delight was of a selfish disposition, and this was very foreign to
+Marjorie's wide generosity of spirit. However, she concluded it must be
+because Delight was an only child, and had no brothers or sisters to
+consider.
+
+Marjorie's own brother and sister were very attentive to their exiled
+one. A dozen times a day King or Kitty would telephone the latest news
+from school or home, and very frequently James would cross the street
+with a note or a book or a funny picture for Midget, from some of the
+Maynards. So the days didn't drag; and as for the morning hours, they
+were the best of all.
+
+"It's like a party every day," said Marjorie to her mother, over the
+telephone. "Miss Hart is so lovely, and not a bit like a school-teacher.
+We never have regular times for any lesson. She just picks out whatever
+lesson she wants to, and we have that. Last night we bundled up and went
+out on the upper balcony and studied astronomy. She showed us Orion, and
+lots of other constitutions, or whatever you call them. Of course we
+don't have school evenings, but that was sort of extra. Oh, Mother, she
+is just lovely!"
+
+"I'm so glad, my Midget, that you're enjoying your lessons. Do you
+practice every day?"
+
+"Yes, Mother; an hour every afternoon. Miss Hart helps me a little with
+that, too, and Delight and I are learning a duet."
+
+"That's fine! And you don't get into mischief?"
+
+"No,--at least not much. I shut one of the kittens up in a bureau drawer
+and forgot her; but Miss Hart found her before she got very dead, and she
+livened her up again. So, that's all right."
+
+"Not quite all right; but I'm sure you won't do it again. I can't seem to
+scold you when you're away from me, so _do_ try to be a good girl, won't
+you, my Midget."
+
+"Yes, Mother, I truly will."
+
+And she did. Partly because of the restraint of visiting, and partly by
+her own endeavors, Marjorie was, on the whole, as well-behaved a child as
+any one could wish. And if she taught Delight more energetic and noisy
+games than she had ever heard before, they really were beneficial to the
+too quiet little girl.
+
+One day they discovered what Miss Hart meant by using their steamer game
+for geography lessons. During school hours she proposed that they all
+play the steamer game.
+
+Very willingly the girls arrayed themselves in wraps and caps, Miss Hart
+also wearing tourist garb, and with shawl straps and bundles, and with
+the kittens, also well wrapped up, they boarded the steamer.
+
+Miss Hart, who pretended to be a stranger with whom they became
+acquainted on board, told them they were taking the Mediterranean trip to
+Naples.
+
+The school-room was, of course, the principal saloon of the boat, and as
+the passengers sat round a table, Miss Hart, by means of a real steamer
+chart, showed them the course they were taking across the Atlantic.
+
+Time of course was not real, and soon they had to pretend they had been
+at sea for a week or more.
+
+Then Miss Hart said they were nearing the Azores and would stop there for
+a short time.
+
+So they left the steamer, in imagination, and Miss Hart described to them
+the beauties and attractions of these islands. She had photographs and
+post cards, and pressed blossoms of the marvellous flowers that grow
+there. So graphic were her descriptions that the girls almost felt they
+had really been there.
+
+"To-morrow," she said, as they returned to the ship, "we shall reach
+Gibraltar. There we will get off and stay several hours, and I'm sure you
+will enjoy it."
+
+And enjoy it they certainly did. Next day it occurred, and when they left
+the ship to visit Gibraltar, they were taken to Miss Hart's own room,
+which she had previously arranged for them.
+
+Here they found pictures of all the interesting points in or near
+Gibraltar. There were views of the great rock, and Miss Hart told them
+the history of the old town, afterward questioning them about it, to be
+sure they remembered. That was always part of her queer teaching, to
+question afterward, but it was easy to remember things so pleasantly
+taught.
+
+She showed them pieces of beautiful Maltese lace, explaining how it was
+made, and why it was sold at Gibraltar, and she showed them pictures of
+the Moors in their strange garb, and told of their history. The luncheon
+bell sent them scurrying to the ship's dining-room, and they begged of
+Miss Hart that they might go on to Naples next day.
+
+But she said that geography mustn't monopolize all the days, and next
+day, although she wasn't sure, probably there would be a session with Mr.
+Arithmetic.
+
+"I don't care," said Midget, happily, "I know we'll have a lovely time,
+even if it _is_ arithmetic."
+
+Valentine's Day came before the quarantine was raised.
+
+Marjorie was very sorry for this, for the doctor had said that after a
+few days more she could go home, and it seemed as if she might have gone
+for the fourteenth.
+
+But he would not allow it, so there was nothing to do but make the best
+of it.
+
+The night before Valentine's Day, however, she did feel a bit blue, as
+she thought of King and Kitty and even Rosy Posy addressing their
+valentines, and making a frolic of it as they always did.
+
+And she thought of her father, who was always ready to help on such
+occasions, making verses, and printing them in his fine, neat
+handwriting. Of course, they would send some to her,--she knew that,--but
+she was losing all the jolly family fun, and it seemed a pity.
+
+And then the telephone rang, and it was her father calling for her.
+
+"Hello, Midget," came his cheery voice over the wire; "now I wonder if a
+little girl about you? size isn't feeling sorry for herself this
+evening."
+
+"I'm afraid I am, Father, but I'm trying not to."
+
+"Good for you, Sister! Now don't bother to do it, for I can tell you I'm
+feeling _so_ sorry for you that it's unnecessary for anybody else to do
+that same. Now I'll tell you something to chirk you up. I suppose you
+have lessons to-morrow morning?"
+
+"Yes; Miss Hart said we could have a holiday if we chose, but we didn't
+choose. So we're going to have special valentiney lessons,--I don't know
+what they'll be."
+
+"All right; and in the afternoon, I shall send you over a valentine
+party. No people, you know, they're not allowed; but all the rest of a
+nice valentine party."
+
+"Why, Father, how can we have a party without people?"
+
+"Easily enough. I'll attend to that. Goodnight, now, Midget. Hop to bed,
+and dream hearts and darts and loves and doves and roses and posies and
+all such things."
+
+"All right, I will. Good-night, Father dear. Is Mother there?"
+
+"Yes,--hold the wire."
+
+So Mrs. Maynard came and said a loving goodnight to her near yet faraway
+daughter, and Marjorie went to bed all cheered up, instead of lonely and
+despondent.
+
+St. Valentine's Day was a fine, crisp winter day, with sunshine dancing
+on the snow, and blue sky beaming down on the bare branches of the trees.
+
+The fun began at breakfast-time, when everybody found valentines at their
+plates,--for as Midge and Delight agreed, they had made so many, and they
+must use them up somehow. So Miss Hart and Mrs. Spencer received several
+in the course of the day; two were surreptitiously stuffed into Doctor
+Mendel's coat pockets, and the kittens each received some.
+
+Lessons that morning were not really lessons at all. Miss Hart called it
+a Literature Class.
+
+First she told the girls about the origin of Valentines, and how they
+happened to be named for St. Valentine, and why he was chosen as the
+patron saint of love. Then she read them some celebrated valentines
+written by great poets, and the girls had to read them after her, with
+great care as to their elocution.
+
+She showed them some curious valentines, whose initials spelled names or
+words, and were called acrostics, and told of some quaint old-fashioned
+valentines that had been sent to her grandmother.
+
+"And now," she said finally, "we've had enough of the sentimental side, I
+will read you a funny valentine story."
+
+So, in her whimsical, dramatic fashion, she read the tragic tale of Mr.
+Todgers and Miss Tee.
+
+"In the town of Slocum Pocum, eighteen-seventy A.D.,
+Lived Mr. Thomas Todgers and Miss Thomasina Tee;
+The lady blithely owned to forty-something in the shade,
+While Todgers, chuckling, called himself a rusty-eating blade,
+And on the village green they lived in two adjacent cots.
+Adorned with green Venetians and vermilion flower pots.
+
+"No doubt you've heard it stated--'tis an aphorism trite--
+That people who live neighborly in daily sound and sight
+Of each other's personality, habitually grow
+To look alike, and think alike, and act alike, and so
+Did Mr. Thomas Todgers and Miss Thomasina Tee,
+In the town of Slocum Pocum, eighteen-seventy A.D.
+
+"Now Todgers always breakfasted at twenty-five to eight,
+At seven-thirty-five Miss Tee poured out her chocolate;
+And Todgers at nine-thirty yawned 'Lights out! I'll go to bed.'
+At half-past nine Miss Tee 'retired'--a word she used instead.
+Their hours were identical at meals and church and chores,
+At weeding in the garden, or at solitaire indoors."
+
+"'Twas the twelfth of February, so the chronicler avers;
+Mr. Todgers in his garden, and Miss Tee, of course, in hers;
+Both assiduously working, both no doubt upon their knees,
+Chanced to raise their eyes together; glances met--and, if you please,
+Ere one could say Jack Robinson! tut-tut! or fol-de-re!
+Thomasina loved Mr. Todgers; Mr. Todgers loved Miss Tee!
+
+"Two heads with but a single thought went bobbing to the dust,
+And Todgers smiled sub rosa, and Miss Thomasina blushed;
+Then they seized their garden tackle and incontinently fled
+Down the box-edged pathways past the flower pots of red;
+Past the vivid green Venetians, past the window curtains white,
+Into their respective dwellings, and were seen no more that night.
+
+"All that night poor love-sick Todgers tried his new-born hopes to quell,
+And Miss Tee made resolutions, but she did not make them well,
+For they went to smash at daybreak, and she softly murmured ''Tis
+Kismet! Fate! Predestination! If he'll have me I am his.'
+While Todgers sang 'There's Only One Girl in This World for Me,'
+Or its music hall equivalent in eighteen-seventy.
+
+"It was February thirteenth (On, my Pegasus! Nor balk
+At that fear-inspiring figure!) Thomasina took a walk.
+And Fate drew her--drew her--drew her by a thousand spidery lines
+To a Slocum Pocum window filled chockful of valentines,
+All gaudy--save two, just alike in color, shape and size,
+Which pressed against the window pane and caught the lady's eyes.
+
+"'How chaste! How charming! How complete!' she cried. 'It must be mine!
+I'll tell my love to Thomas in this lovely valentine,
+Whereon is suitably inscribed, in letters fine and free,
+'SEND BACK THIS TENDER TOKEN IF YOU CANNOT MARRY ME.'
+So with her cheeks all rosy, and her pulses all astir,
+She went in and brought the valentine and took it home with her.
+
+"Ten minutes later Thomas paused outside the self-same store.
+You guess the rest. Fate grappled him and pushed him through the door,
+And made him buy the fellow to the very valentine
+Which Thomasina had purchased there at twenty-five to nine.
+He chuckled (and Fate chuckled) the appropriate words to see--
+'SEND BACK THIS TENDER TOKEN IF YOU CANNOT MARRY ME.'
+
+"It was February fourteenth, and the postman's rat-a-tat
+Made two hearts in Slocum Pocum beat a feverish pit-pat
+Thomas and Thomasina each in turn rushed doorwards and
+Snatched their respective missives from the post's extended hand;
+And the postman, wicked rascal, slowly winked the other eye,
+And said: 'Seems to me the old folks is a gettin' pretty spry.'
+
+"They tore the letters open. 'What is this? Rejected! Spurned!'
+Both thought the cards before them were their valentines returned.
+And Thomas went to Africa, and Thomasina to Rome;
+And other tenants came to fill each small deserted home.
+So no more in Slocum Pocum may we hope again to see
+Poor Mr. Thomas Todgers and poor Thomasina Tee."
+
+"That's awfully funny," said Delight, as Miss Hart finished reading, "but
+I should think they would have known they got each other's valentine."
+
+"I shouldn't," said Midge, who entered more into the spirit of the story;
+"they didn't know each other sent any, so each thought their own was
+returned. Besides, if they hadn't thought so, there wouldn't have been
+any story."
+
+"That's so," said Delight, who usually agreed with Marjorie, finally.
+
+The postman brought lots of valentines for the two little girls.
+Delight's were almost all from her friends in New York, although some of
+the Rockwell young people had remembered her too.
+
+Marjorie's were nearly all from Rockwell, and though there were none from
+any of her family, that did not bother her, for she knew they would come
+in the afternoon for the "party."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+A VALENTINE PARTY
+
+At four o'clock the "party" came. Midget and Delight, watching from the
+window, saw James and Thomas come across the street, bringing between
+them a great big something, all wrapped in white tissue paper. They left
+their burden, whatever it was, on the porch, rang the door-bell, and went
+away.
+
+The children flew to the door, and, with the help of Mary and Miss Hart,
+they brought the big thing in.
+
+Though bulky, it was not heavy, and they set it in the library and
+proceeded to take off the wrappings. As the last sheet of tissue paper
+was removed, shrieks of admiration went up from the girls, and Mrs.
+Spencer came running in to see what the excitement was about.
+
+She saw a large heart, about five feet high, made on a light wood frame,
+which was covered with red crepe paper. It was bordered with red and
+white gilt flowers, also made of paper, and at the top was a big bow of
+red ribbon, with long fluttering streamers. On top of the heart, of
+either _shoulder_, sat two beautiful white doves which were real doves,
+stuffed, and they held in their beaks envelopes, one marked Delight and
+one Marjorie.
+
+The whole affair had a back stay, and stood up on the floor like an
+easel. The paper that covered the heart was put on in folds, like tucks
+upside down, and in the folds were thrust many envelopes, that doubtless
+contained valentines. Between and among these were little cupids and
+doves fastened on, also nosegays of flowers and fluttering ribbons, and
+hearts pierced with darts, and the whole effect was like one great big
+valentine.
+
+Before touching the envelopes, Delight and Marjorie sat on the floor,
+their arms round each other, and gazed at the pretty sight.
+
+"Did your father make it?" asked Delight.
+
+"He planned it, I'm sure," replied Marjorie. "But they all helped make
+it, I know. I suppose Father had the frame made somewhere, then he and
+Mother covered it, and Kit and King helped make the flowers and things.
+Oh, I wish I'd been there!"
+
+"Then they wouldn't have made it!" said Delight, quickly, and Midge
+laughed, and said:
+
+"No, I suppose not. Well, shall we begin to read the valentines?"
+
+"Yes, but let's take them out slowly, and make it last a long while."
+
+"Yes, for this is our 'party,' you know. Oh, see, these envelopes in the
+doves' bills say on them, 'To be opened last.' So we'll begin with these
+others. You take one with your name on, first."
+
+So Delight pulled out an envelope that was addressed to her.
+
+It contained a valentine of which the principal figure was a pretty
+little girl, something like Delight herself. Inside was written:
+
+"Flossy Flouncy, fair and fine,
+Let me be your Valentine.
+Here's my heart laid at your feet,
+Flossy Flouncy, fair and sweet."
+
+"I know King wrote that!" cried Midget; "he always calls you Flossy
+Flouncy. You don't mind, do you?"
+
+"No, indeed! I think it's fun. I'm going to call him Old King Cole. That
+is, if I ever see him again."
+
+"Oh, pshaw! We'll be out of this prison next week. The doctor said so.
+And you must come and make me a visit to even things up."
+
+"Mother wouldn't let me go to your house to stay, I'm sure; but I can go
+over afternoons or Saturdays."
+
+"Yes, and you'll get to know King better. He's an awful nice boy."
+
+"I'm sure he is. Now you take a valentine."
+
+Midget pulled out the biggest one that was addressed to her. It held a
+beautiful, large valentine, not home-made, but of most elaborate design.
+
+On its back, though, was a verse written, that Midge knew at once was
+done by her father. It said:
+
+"Marjorie Midget Mopsy Mops,
+I have looked through all the shops,
+Searching for a Valentine
+Good enough for Midget Mine.
+This is the best that I could do,
+So here it is with my love so true."
+
+"Isn't it a beauty!" cried Midge; "I never had such a handsome one
+before. See how the flowers are tied with real ribbons, and the birds hop
+in and out of their cages."
+
+"It's splendid!" said Delight, "and here's a big one for me too!"
+
+She pulled out a large envelope, addressed to herself, and found a
+valentine quite as beautiful as Marjorie's and almost exactly like it. It
+was from her father, and as Mr. Spencer didn't have the knack of rhyming
+as well as Mr. Maynard, he had written on the back:
+
+"Dear Delight,
+I can't write,
+But I send you
+Affection true,
+Yankee Doodle Doo!"
+
+"I think that's funny!" cried Marjorie. "I love funny valentines."
+
+"So do I," agreed Delight; "and I didn't know father could make rhymes as
+well as that. He must have learned from your father."
+
+"I 'spect he did. Everybody makes verses at our house."
+
+Marjorie smiled to think of the grave and dignified Mr. Spencer learning
+to write funny rhymes, but she was glad Delight had a big valentine like
+hers.
+
+Then they pulled out the others, by turns. Some were lovely ones that had
+been bought; some were home-made ones; some were funny, but the funny
+ones were home-made, they were not the dreadful things that are called
+"comic" valentines.
+
+Then there were valentines from Gladys and her brother Dick, which had
+been delivered by the postman at Marjorie's home, and sent over with the
+others. There was one from each of the home servants, who were all fond
+of Midget, and glad to send her a token of remembrance. And among the
+best of all were valentines from Grandma Sherwood and Uncle Steve.
+
+Uncle Steve was especially clever at writing verses, and he sent several
+valentines to both the girls.
+
+One bore a picture of two weeping maidens, behind barred windows in a
+castle tower. The verses ran thus:
+
+"Two Princesses locked in a tower,
+    Alas, alas for they!
+I would they need not stay an hour,
+    Nor yet another day.
+But to a lovely rosy bower
+    The two might fly away.
+
+"I would I were a birdie fleet
+    That I might wing a flight,
+And bear to them a message sweet
+    Each morning, noon and night.
+Twould be to me a perfect treat
+    To see their faces bright.
+
+"But, no, in their far home they stay,
+  And I must stay in mine;
+But though we are so far away
+  Our thoughts we may entwine.
+And I will send this little lay
+  From your fond
+
+"VALENTINE."
+
+"That's lovely," said Delight, "and it's for me as much as you. What
+jolly relatives you have."
+
+"Oh, Uncle Steve is wonderful. He can do anything. Sometime perhaps you
+can go to his house with me, then you'll see. Oh, here's a pretty one,
+listen."
+
+Midge read aloud:
+
+"What is a Valentine? Tell me, pray.
+Only a fanciful roundelay
+Bearing a message from one to another
+(This time, to a dear little girl from her mother).
+Message of love and affection true;
+This is a Valentine, I LOVE YOU!"
+
+"That's sweet. Did your mother write it?"
+
+"Yes, Mother makes lovely poetry. Here's a ridiculous one from Kit."
+
+"Marjorie, Parjorie, Pudding and Pie,
+Hurry up home, or I'll have to cry.
+Since you've been gone I've grown so thin
+I'm nothing at all but bone and skin.
+So hurry up home if you have any pity
+For your poor little lonesome sister
+
+"KITTY."
+
+"Why, I thought people never signed valentines," said Delight, laughing
+at Kitty's effusion.
+
+"They don't, real ones. But of course these are just nonsense ones, and
+anyway I know Kit's writing, so it doesn't matter."
+
+There were lots of others, and through Marjorie, naturally, had more than
+Delight, yet there were plenty for both girls, and set out on two tables
+they made a goodly show. Miss Hart was called in to see them, but she
+answered that she was busy in the dining-room just then, and would come
+in a few moments.
+
+The big heart that had held the valentines was not at all marred, but
+rather improved by their removal, and, the girls admired it more than
+ever.
+
+"But we haven't taken the last ones yet," said Delight, looking at the
+two envelopes in the bills of the doves. They took them at the same time,
+and opened them simultaneously.
+
+Each contained a valentine and a tiny parcel. The valentines were exactly
+alike, and their verses read the same:
+
+"This is a Ring Dove, fair and white
+That brings this gift to you to-night.
+But why a Ring Dove, you may ask;
+The answer is an easy task.
+Look in this tiny box and see
+What has the Ring Dove brought to thee!"
+
+Eagerly the girls opened the boxes, and inside, on a bit of cotton wool,
+lay two lovely rings exactly alike. They were set with a little heart
+made of tiny pearls and turquoises, and they just fitted the fingers of
+the two little girls.
+
+"Aren't they exquisite!" cried Delight, who loved pretty things.
+
+"Beautiful!" agreed Midge, who thought more of the ring as a souvenir.
+"We can always remember to-day by them. I suppose your father sent yours
+and my father sent mine."
+
+"Yes, of course they did. Oh, Miss Hart, do look at our rings and
+valentines!"
+
+Miss Hart came in, smiling, and proved an interested audience of one, as
+she examined all the pretty trifles.
+
+"And now," said Miss Hart, at last, "there's more to your valentine
+party. Will you come out to the dining-room and see it?"
+
+Wondering, the two girls followed Miss Hart to the dining-room, and
+fairly stood still in astonishment at the scene. As it was well after
+dusk now, the shades had been drawn, and the lights turned on. The table
+was set as if for a real party, and the decorations were all of pink and
+white.
+
+Pink candles with pretty pink shades cast a soft light, and pink and
+white flowers were beautifully arranged. In the centre was a waxen cupid
+with gilt wings, whose outstretched hands bore two large hearts suspended
+by ribbons. These hearts were most elaborate satin boxes, one having
+Marjorie on it in gilt letters and the other Delight. As it turned out,
+they were to be kept as jewel boxes, or boxes for any little trinkets,
+but now they were filled with delicious bon-bons, the satin lining being
+protected by tinfoil and lace paper.
+
+The table was laid for four, and at each place was a valentine.
+
+Mrs. Spencer and Miss Hart took their seats, but, at first, the girls
+were too bewildered to understand.
+
+"It's your party, Marjorie," said Miss Hart, smiling. "Your father and
+mother sent it all over,--everything, even the candles and flowers. All
+we've done is to arrange it on the table. So you must sit at the head, as
+you're hostess."
+
+So Midget took her place at the head of the table, with Delight opposite.
+
+Each person had a parcel at their plate, daintily tied up in pink paper
+and white ribbon, and sealed with little gold hearts.
+
+Mrs. Spencer said they would not open these until after the feast, so
+after they had looked a few moments longer on the pretty things all about
+the table, Mary brought in the first course, and the party began.
+
+First there was fruit, and this consisted of a slice of pineapple cut in
+a heart shape, and surrounded on the plate by strawberries and candied
+cherries. This dainty arrangement, on lace paper, was so pretty that
+Delight said it was too bad to disturb it.
+
+"It's too good not to be disturbed," said Marjorie, and as it was really
+dinner time, and the girls were hungry, the lovely fruit course soon
+disappeared.
+
+"This isn't dinner," said Mrs. Spencer, "it's a party supper. Your party,
+you know, Marjorie."
+
+"Yes'm; I didn't see how Father could send me a party without people. But
+he did his part, didn't he?"
+
+"Yes, indeed; and we're doing ours. We've all the people that we can
+have, and so we'll make the best of it."
+
+"I think it's a lovely party," said Delight, "the best one I ever went
+to. Oh, what are these?"
+
+For Mary was just passing the most fascinating looking dish. It was
+oyster croquettes, carefully moulded in heart shapes, accompanied by
+French fried potatoes also cut into little hearts.
+
+"Ellen cut these, I know she did," said Marjorie. "She's such a clever
+cook, and she loves to make fancy things."
+
+"Your mother is very fortunate with her servants," said Mrs. Spencer,
+with a little sigh.
+
+And then came lovely brown bread sandwiches, of course they were heart
+shaped too, and Marjorie declared she'd have heart-disease if these
+things kept on!
+
+But they did keep on. Next came jellied chicken that had been moulded in
+heart forms, and lettuce salad with red hearts cut from beets among the
+crisp yellow leaves.
+
+Then came dessert, and it was a bewildering array of heart ice creams,
+and heart cakes, and heart bon-bons, and heart shaped forms of jelly.
+
+"Only one of each, to-night," said Mrs. Spencer, smiling. "I don't want
+two invalids for valentines, I can assure you."
+
+So lots of the good things were left over for next day, and Marjorie
+remarked that she thought the next day's feast was always about as much
+fun as the party any way.
+
+"Now for our presents," said Delight, as the last plates were removed,
+and they sat round the table still feasting their eyes on the pretty
+trinkets that decorated it.
+
+So Mrs. Spencer opened her parcel first.
+
+She found a silver photograph frame shaped like a heart. Of course, Mr.
+Spencer had sent it, and the pretty card with it read:
+
+"As at my verse I'm sure you'd sniff,
+I simply send this little gift.
+
+"VALENTINE."
+
+The Spencers seemed to think this a fine poem but Marjorie secretly
+wondered if a grown-up man could think those words rhymed!
+
+Miss Hart opened her box next, and found a heart-shaped filigree gold
+brooch of great beauty. The Maynards had sent her this, not only as a
+valentine, but as a token of gratitude for her kindness to Marjorie.
+
+These verses were written on a fancy card:
+
+"Hearts to Miss Hart
+So I bring you a heart.
+Your name is fine
+For a Valentine.
+Though this trinket small
+Can't tell you all
+'Twill give you a hint
+That hearts are not flint;
+And when this one of gold
+Our good wishes has told,
+May it brightly shine
+As your valentine."
+
+"It's just a darling!" exclaimed Miss Hart, looking at the welcome gift.
+"Your parents are too good to me, Marjorie."
+
+"I'm glad of it," said Midge, simply, "you're too good to me!"
+
+She smiled at Miss Hart, and then she and Delight opened their boxes
+together.
+
+Their gifts were just alike, and were pink and gold cups and saucers. The
+china and decoration were exquisite, and both cup and saucer were heart
+shaped. Not the most convenient shape to drink from, perhaps, but lovely
+for a souvenir of Valentine's Day.
+
+Then they took the boxes held out by the wax cupid, and admired the
+tufted satin and the painted garlands.
+
+"Let's take the candies out and put them in other boxes," said Delight,
+"so there'll be no danger of getting a bit of chocolate on the satin."
+
+This was a good idea, and then they took all the pretty ornaments into
+the library and set them around on tables.
+
+"It's like Christmas," said Delight, with a little sigh of happiness. "I
+do love pretty things."
+
+"Then you ought to be happy now," said Miss Hart, "for I never saw such
+an array of favors."
+
+And indeed the room looked like a valentine shop, with its flowers and
+gifts and cupids and valentines, and the big heart standing in front of
+the mantel.
+
+Then Miss Hart spent the evening playing games with the children, and
+after an enthusiastic telephone conversation with the people opposite,
+Marjorie and Delight went upstairs, agreeing that nobody had ever had
+such a lovely Valentine party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+A JINKS AUCTION
+
+At last the day came when Marjorie was allowed to go home.
+
+Doctor Mendel had had a most thorough fumigation and disinfection, and
+all danger was over. The little boy was convalescent, and there was no
+longer any reason why Midget or Mr. Spencer should be exiled from their
+homes.
+
+And so, liberated from her prison, Midget flew, across the street, and
+into the arms of her waiting family.
+
+"Mother first!" she cried, as they all crowded round, but so mixed up did
+the Maynards become, that it was one grand jumble of welcoming hugs and
+kisses.
+
+"Oh, I'm _so_ glad to be home again," Marjorie cried, as she looked about
+the familiar living-room. "It seems as if I'd been away years."
+
+"Seems so to me, too," said Kitty, who had greatly missed her sister.
+"Mother, aren't we going to celebrate Mopsy's coming home?"
+
+Now "celebration" in the Maynard household, always meant dress-up frocks,
+and ice cream for dessert.
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling; "fly upstairs, girlies, and get
+into some pretty dresses, and then fly down again, for father's coming
+home early."
+
+So Midge and Kitty flew, and King scampered to his room also, and Mrs.
+Maynard gave the baby over to Nurse Nannie for a clean frock, while she
+herself telephoned for the ice cream. And to the order she added cakes
+and candied fruits and other dainties, until it bade fair to be a
+celebration feast indeed.
+
+Marjorie, delighted to be in her own room once more, chattered rapidly,
+as she and Kitty dressed, and tied ribbons, and hooked waists for each
+other.
+
+"Delight is an awfully nice girl, Kitsie," she was saying. "I didn't like
+her so much at first, but as we were together so much I grew to like her
+better."
+
+"Is she as nice as Gladys?"
+
+"In some ways she is. She's more fun than Glad about playing games. She
+loves to play pretend, and Gladys wasn't much good at that. But, of
+course, I'm more fond of Glad, she's my old friend. Delight is nice for a
+neighbor though."
+
+Dressed in a white serge, with pipings and bows of scarlet velvet, her
+cheeks glowing red with the joyous excitement of getting home, and her
+eyes dancing with happiness, Marjorie flew downstairs just in time to
+tumble into the arms of her father, who was entering the hall door.
+
+"Why, bless my stars!" he exclaimed; "who in the world is this?"
+
+"Your long-lost daughter!" said Midge, nestling in his big, comfortable
+embrace.
+
+"No! Can it be? This great big girl! Why, how you've grown! And
+yet,--yes, it is! my own Marjorie Mischief Mopsy Midget Maynard! Well, I
+_am_ glad you're back where you belong!"
+
+"So'm I! I tell you Father Maynard, it was awful hard to stay away so
+long."
+
+"I know it, girlie, and I hope it won't happen again. But you know, 'into
+each life some rain must fall.'"
+
+"And I did have a good time, too," went on Midge. "Isn't it funny,
+Father, how you can have a good time and a bad time both at once."
+
+"Quite comic, I should say. Now, let me get my coat off, and then we'll
+talk matters over."
+
+Marjorie skipped into the living-room, and plumped herself down on the
+sofa. Kitty and King sat close on either side, and Rosy Posy climbed into
+her lap and lovingly patted her face.
+
+The four made a pretty group, and as Mrs. Maynard came in and saw them,
+she said:
+
+"Well, I'm glad my quartette is whole again; it's been broken so long."
+
+The dinner was a celebration for fair. Aside from the delicious things to
+eat, everybody was so gay and glad over Marjorie's return, that all was
+laughter and jollity.
+
+"How different our two families are," said Midge, thoughtfully; "here we
+are having such fun and frolic, and the Spencers are just having an
+every-day, quiet dinner."
+
+"Aren't they glad the sickness is all over?" asked Kitty.
+
+"Yes, of course. But they never 'celebrate.' I guess they don't know how
+very well. And Mrs. Spencer is very quiet. Much noise makes her head
+ache."
+
+"Mr. Spencer was awful quiet, too," said King. "He hardly ever laughed
+all the time he was here. Except the night we wrote the valentines. Then
+he laughed, cause we made him write poetry and he couldn't."
+
+"Well, they're nice people," said Midge, "but awful different from us.
+I'm glad I'm a Maynard!"
+
+"I'm glad you are!" said her father.
+
+The next day Mrs. Maynard announced her intention of going over to see
+Mrs. Spencer, and thanking her for her care of Marjorie.
+
+"But it does seem funny," said Midge, "to thank her for keeping me there,
+when I couldn't possibly get away! But she was good to me, though really
+she didn't pay very much attention to me. But I s'pose that was 'cause
+she was so bothered about the little sick boy. But, Mother, do thank Miss
+Hart, too. She was lovely; and she put herself out lots of times, to make
+it pleasant for Delight and me. Give her plenty of thanks, will you,
+Mother?"
+
+"Yes, Midget; and what about Delight?"
+
+"Oh, yes, thank her too. She was kind and pleasant,--only,--well, it
+seems mean to say so,--but, Mother, she is a little selfish. I didn't
+mind, really; only I don't think it's quite nice to be selfish to a
+guest."
+
+"Perhaps not, Mar; one; but neither is it nice to criticise your little
+hostess."
+
+Marjorie flushed. "I didn't mean to, Mother," she said; "but I thought it
+didn't count when I'm just talking to you."
+
+"That's right, dearie; always say anything you choose to Mother, but
+don't criticise Delight to anybody else."
+
+"No, Mother, I won't," and Midge gave her mother one of her biggest
+"bear-hugs" and then wandered off in search of Kitty.
+
+"What are you doing, Kit?" she said, as she found her sister sitting on
+the big hall settle, looking out of the window.
+
+"Waiting for Dorothy. She's coming this afternoon, and we're going to
+play paper dolls."
+
+Marjorie must have looked a little disappointed, for Kitty said:
+
+"Say, Mops, why don't you take Delight for your friend in Glad's place?
+It's so nice to have a friend all your own."
+
+"I know it is, Kit," and Midget sat down beside her sister, "but somehow
+it seems sort of mean to put anybody in Gladys's place."
+
+"Oh, pshaw! it doesn't either. And when Glad is so far away, too. She
+doesn't even write to you, does she?"
+
+"She sent me a valentine."
+
+"Well, but when has she written?"
+
+"Not for a long time. But that doesn't matter. She's my friend, and I'm
+not going to put anybody else in her place."
+
+Kitty grew exasperated at this foolishness, as it seemed to her, and
+said:
+
+"Well, then don't put her in Glad's place. Keep her old place empty. But
+take Delight as a sort of, what do you call it? Substitute friend, and
+let her come over here to play, same as Dorothy comes to play with me."
+
+"I'd like to do that," said Midge. "I'm awfully glad to have Delight with
+me, and I know she likes me."
+
+"Then go and telephone her now. Ask her to come over, and play."
+
+"No, not now, 'cause mother is over there, and I'd rather wait till she
+comes home. Let's all play together to-day."
+
+"All right; here comes Dorothy now."
+
+Dorothy Adams came in, very glad to see Midget again, whom she liked
+almost as much as she did Kitty. She took off her things, and the girls
+drifted into the living-room, where King sat reading.
+
+He had a band of red ribbon round his head, in which were stuck a dozen
+large turkey feathers, giving him a startling appearance.
+
+"What's the feathers for?" asked Dorothy, looking at the boy in
+amazement.
+
+"Why, you see, I'm reading one of Cooper's stories," King explained, "and
+I can sort of feel the Indian part of it better if I wear some feathers."
+
+"Come on and play," said Midget; "shall we play Indians?"
+
+"No," said Kitty, promptly, "it's too rough and tumbly when we play it in
+the house. Let's play a pretend game."
+
+"Aren't we going to have the Jinks Club any more?" asked Dorothy. "We
+haven't had it since the Fultons went away."
+
+"Too few of us," said King; "we four, that's all."
+
+"We might ask Delight to belong," said Marjorie, "she can cut up jinks
+when she feels like it."
+
+"All right, do;" said King, "let's have Flossy Flouncy; and I'll ask Flip
+Henderson, he's heaps of fun. Then we'll have six, just like we had
+before."
+
+"I don't like to put people in the Fultons' place," said Marjorie,
+dubiously.
+
+"Now, look here, Midge, that's silly!" said King. "We can't help it that
+the Fultons moved away, but that's no reason we shouldn't have anybody to
+play with. Let's telephone for our two new members right now, and begin
+the club all over again."
+
+After a little more argument Marjorie consented, and she telephoned for
+Delight to come over, and then King telephoned for Frederick Henderson,
+better known by the more euphonious name of Flip. Both accepted, and in
+less than half an hour the Jinks Club was in full session. The new
+members had been elected by the simple process of telling them that they
+were members, and they gladly agreed to the rules and regulations of the
+somewhat informal club.
+
+"We just cut up jinks," exclaimed Marjorie, "but they have to be good
+jinks, for bad jinks are mischief, and we try to keep out of that."
+
+"It sounds lovely," said Delight; "I always wanted to belong to a club,
+but I never have before. Can't we cut up a jink, now?"
+
+"You must say 'cut up jinks,' Flossy Flouncy," said King, smiling at the
+pretty, eager face. "You can't cut 'em by ones."
+
+"Well, cut some, and show me how."
+
+"I believe you think we cut 'em with scissors, like paper dolls," said
+Marjorie, laughing.
+
+She was really very glad to have Delight with her again, for she had
+become more attached than she realised to the little girl during their
+fortnight together.
+
+"Show me," repeated Delight, with an air of willingness to learn.
+
+"All right; let's have a good one. What shall it be, Mops?"
+
+King looked at his sister with such evident faith in her power of
+inventiveness, that the others all looked at her too. Marjorie looked
+round the room.
+
+"I'll tell you!" she cried, as a brilliant idea came to her, "we'll play
+auction."
+
+"Hooray!" cried King, grasping the plan at once. "Sell everything we can
+move."
+
+"Yes," cried Mops. "Where is the auction room?"
+
+"This end of the room is the auction room," King, indicating nearly half
+of the long living-room. "Now, Flip and I are auctioneers and you ladies
+are in reduced poverty, and have to bring your household goods to be
+sold."
+
+Delight and Kitty at once saw dramatic possibilities, and flew to dress
+for their parts. An afghan for a shawl, and a tidy for a bonnet,
+contented Kitty, but on Delight's head went a fluffy lamp mat, stuck
+through with four or five of the turkey quills discarded from King's
+head-dress.
+
+Mops and Dorothy followed this lead, and soon four poverty-stricken
+ladies, carrying household treasures, timidly entered the auction-room.
+
+"What can I do for you, madam?" said King, as Delight showed him a bronze
+statuette.
+
+"I have lost all my fortune, sir," responded Delight, sobbing in a way
+that greatly pleased her hearers; "and I fear I must sacrifice my few
+remaining relics of my better days."
+
+"Ah, yes, madam. Sorry to hear of your ill luck. Just leave the
+statuette, ma'am, we have an auction to-morrow or next week, and we'll
+get what we can for it."
+
+"It's a priceless work of art," said Delight, still loudly weeping, "and
+I don't want less than five thousand dollars for it."
+
+"Five thousand dollars, madam! A mere trifle for that gem! I'll get ten
+thousand for you, at least!"
+
+"Ten thousand will do nicely," said Delight, giggling at last at King's
+pompous air.
+
+Then Marjorie came bringing a large frilly sofa pillow.
+
+"This is my last pillow," she said, in quavering tones. "I shall have to
+sleep on a brickbat tonight; but I must have bread for my children to
+eat. There are seven of them, and they haven't had a mouthful for two
+weeks."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing!" responded Flip, airily. "Children ought not to be
+fed oftener than every three weeks anyway. I hate over-fed children. It
+makes them so cross."
+
+"So it does," agreed Kitty. "But my children are never cross, 'cause I
+feed them on honey. I've brought a bust of Dante to have sold by auction.
+It's a big one, you see, and ought to bring a good price."
+
+"Yes, it will, madame, I'm sure. Haven't you anything more to leave?"
+
+"Yes, here's an umbrella, and a waste basket, and some books. They're all
+valuable but I have so much treasures in my house, I don't need these."
+
+"Hurry up," put in Dorothy, "and give me a chance. I've brought these
+pictures," showing some small ones she had lifted from their nails in the
+wall, "and also this fine inkstand. Look out and don't spill the ink Also
+here's a vase of flowers, flowers and all. Look out and don't spill the
+water."
+
+"You seem to bring spilly things, ma'am," said King, taking the goods
+carefully. "But we'll sell them."
+
+Each girl trudged back and forth a few times until most of the portable
+things in the room were piled up on the table and sofa at the end where
+the boys were, and then the auction was prepared.
+
+The boys themselves had taken down many of the larger pictures from their
+hooks, and the room looked, on the whole, as if a cyclone had struck it.
+
+"They ought to be numbered," said Flip, stepping gingerly about among the
+things.
+
+"Hold on a minute! I've got it!" shouted King, and rushed upstairs at top
+speed.
+
+He returned with a large calendar, two or three pairs of scissors and a
+paste-pot.
+
+"Cut 'em out," he directed, giving each girl a page of the calendar.
+
+The numbers were large, more than an inch square, and soon lots of them
+were cut out. These, the boys pasted on all the goods for sale, making
+them look like real auction goods.
+
+"Won't it hurt the things?" asked Delight, who was not used to such
+high-handed performances.
+
+"'Course not! They'll wash right off. Now the auction will begin. Now,
+you must be rich ladies, different ones, you know."
+
+"Here you are!" cried King, who was auctioneer by common consent; "here
+you are! number 24! a fine large statuette by one of the old masters.
+What am I bid for this?"
+
+"Fifty cents," said Dorothy.
+
+"Fifty cents! Do you mean to insult me, madame! Why, some old masters
+sell as high as fifty dollars, I can tell you! Who will bid higher?"
+
+"One hundred dollars!" called out Delight, and the bronze statuette was
+declared her property.
+
+Then other goods were put up, and, in order to make the play progress
+more quickly, two auctioneers were set to work, and King and Flip were
+both calling their wares and the bids at once.
+
+Naturally, the bidders grew very excited. A large picture was hotly
+contested, Kitty bidding against Delight, while on the other block, the
+big inkstand was being sold. Somehow the wire of the picture became
+tangled round the auctioneer's foot, he stepped back and bumped into the
+other auctioneer who lost his balance, and fell over, inkstand and all.
+The heavy inkstand fell on the picture, breaking the glass, and soaking
+the paper engraving with ink. Much of the ink, too, went on Flip, who
+grabbed for it in a vain endeavor to save the situation.
+
+The two boys laughingly straightened themselves out of their own mix up,
+but their laughter ceased when they saw that real damage had been done.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Marjorie, "this is a bad jinks after all!"
+
+"Never mind, Mopsy," said King, magnanimously, "it wasn't your fault. It
+was mine."
+
+"No, it was mine," said Midge, "for I proposed playing auction. I might
+have known we'd play it too hard."
+
+"Never mind," said Kitty, "the company didn't have anything to do with
+the trouble, and we mustn't make them feel bad."
+
+"I did," said Dorothy, "I brought the inkstand to the auction. I ought to
+have known better."
+
+"Never mind who's to blame," said King, "let's straighten things out. The
+game is over."
+
+Good-naturedly, they all went to work, and soon had everything back in
+its place. The broken and spoiled picture was stood behind the sofa, face
+to the wall, to be confessed to mother later.
+
+"Now we're all in shape again," said King, looking proudly about the
+cleared up room. "Any nice little jinks to eat, Midgie?"
+
+"I'll ask Sarah. She'll find something."
+
+She did, and soon a large tray of cookies and lemonade refreshed the
+members of the Jinks Club, after which the visiting members went home.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+HONEST CONFESSION
+
+"I want to own up, Mother," said King, as Mrs. Maynard came into the
+room, just before dinner time.
+
+"Well, King, what have you been doing now?"
+
+Mrs. Maynard's face expressed a humorous sort of resignation, for she was
+accustomed to these confessions.
+
+"Well, you see, Mothery, we had the Jinks Club here to-day."
+
+King's voice was very wheedlesome, and he had his arm round his mother's
+neck, for he well knew her affection for her only son often overcame her
+duty of discipline.
+
+"And the Jinksies cut up some awful piece of mischief,--is that it?"
+
+"Yes, Mother; but it's a truly awful one this time, and I'm the one to
+blame."
+
+"No, you're not!" broke in Marjorie; "at least, not entirely. I proposed
+the game."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Maynard, "before you quarrel for the honor of this
+dreadful deed, suppose you tell me what it is."
+
+For answer, King dragged the big picture out from behind the sofa, and
+Mrs. Maynard's smile changed to a look of real dismay.
+
+"Oh, King!" she said; "that's your father's favorite engraving!"
+
+"Yes'm, I know it. That's the awfullest part of it. But, Mother, it was
+an accident."
+
+"Ah, yes, but an accident that ought not to have happened. It was an
+accident brought about by your own wrong-doing. What possessed you to
+take that great picture down from the wall, and _why_ did you splash ink
+on it?"
+
+So then all the children together told the whole story of the auction
+game.
+
+"But it was lots of fun!" Marjorie wound up, with great enthusiasm.
+"Delight is grand to play games with. She acts just like a grown-up lady.
+And Flip Henderson is funny too."
+
+"But Midget," said her mother, "I can't let you go on with this Jinks
+Club of yours, if you're always going to spoil things."
+
+"No, of course not. But, Mother, I don't think it will happen again. And
+anyway, next time we're going to meet at Delight's."
+
+"That doesn't help matters any, my child. I'd rather you'd spoil my
+things than Mrs. Spencer's,--if spoiling must be done. Well, the case is
+too serious for me. I'll leave the whole matter to your father,--I hear
+him coming up the steps now."
+
+Soon Mr. Maynard entered the room, and found his whole family grouped
+round the ruined picture.
+
+"Wowly--wow-wow!" he exclaimed. "Has there been an earthquake? For
+nothing else could wreck my pet picture like that!"
+
+"No, Father," said King; "it wasn't an earthquake. I did it,--mostly. We
+were playing auction, and my foot got tangled up in the picture wire, and
+the inkstand upset, and smashed the glass, and--and I'm awful sorry."
+
+King was too big a boy to cry, but there was a lump in his throat, as he
+saw his father's look of real regret at the loss of his valued picture.
+
+"Tell me all about it, son. Was it mischief?"
+
+"I'm afraid it was. But we took all the things in the room to play
+auction with, and somehow I took that down from the wall without
+thinking. And, of course, I didn't know it was going to get broken."
+
+"No, King; but if you had stopped to think, you would have known that it
+_might_ get broken?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then it would have been wiser and kinder to leave it upon the wall, out
+of harm's way?"
+
+"Yes, Father; much better. I didn't think. Oh,--I know that's no excuse,
+but that's,--well, it's the reason."
+
+"And a very poor reason, my boy. The worthwhile man is the man who thinks
+in time. Thinking afterward doesn't mend broken things,--or take out
+inkstains. Of course, the broken glass is a mere trifle, that could have
+been easily replaced. But the engraving itself is ruined by the ink."
+
+"Couldn't it be restored?" asked King, hopefully. He was not quite
+certain what "restored" meant, but he knew his father had had it done to
+some pictures.
+
+Mr. Maynard smiled. "No, King, a paper engraving cannot be restored. What
+is that number pasted on it for?"
+
+"We numbered all the things, so as to make it like a real auction," said
+Marjorie.
+
+Mr. Maynard glanced round the room.
+
+"You rascally children!" he cried; "if you haven't stuck papers on all
+the vases and bric-a-brac in the room! And on this tree-calf Tennyson, as
+I live! Oh, my little Maynards! Did anybody ever have such a brood as
+you?"
+
+Mr. Maynard dropped his head in his hands in apparent despair, but the
+children caught the amused note in his voice, and the twinkle in his eye,
+as he glanced at his wife.
+
+"Well, here you are!" he said, as he raised his head again, "for a
+punishment you must get all those numbers off without injury to the
+things they're pasted on. This will mean much care and patience, for you
+must not use water on books or anything that dampness will harm. Those
+must be picked off in tiny bits with a sharp penknife."
+
+"Oh, we'll do it, Father!" cried Marjorie, "and we'll be just as
+careful!"
+
+"Indeed you must. You've done enough havoc already. As to the picture,
+King, we'll say no more about it. You're too big a boy now to be
+punished; so we'll look upon it as a matter between man and man. I know
+you appreciate how deeply I regret the loss of that picture, and I well
+know how sorry you feel about it yourself. The incident is closed."
+
+Mr. Maynard held out his hand to his son, and as King grasped it he felt
+that his father's manly attitude in the matter was a stronger reproof and
+a more efficacious lesson to him than any definite punishment could be.
+
+After dinner the three children went to work to remove the pasted
+numbers.
+
+A few, which were on glass vases, or porcelain, or metal ornaments, could
+be removed easily by soaking with a damp cloth; but most of them were on
+plaster casts, or polished wood, or fine book bindings and required the
+greatest care in handling.
+
+When bed-time came the task was not half finished, and Marjorie's
+shoulders were aching from close application to the work.
+
+"Sorry for you, kiddies," said Mr. Maynard, as they started for bed, "but
+if you dance, you must pay the piper. Perhaps a few more evenings will
+finish the job, and then we'll forget all about it."
+
+Mr. Maynard, though not harsh, was always firm, and the children well
+knew they had the work to do, and must stick patiently at it till it was
+finished.
+
+"Good-night, Father," said King, "and thank you for your confidence in
+me. I'll try to deserve it hereafter."
+
+"Good-night, my boy. We all have to learn by experience, and when you
+want my help, it's yours."
+
+The straightforward glance that passed between father and son meant much
+to both, and King went off to bed, feeling that, if not quite a grown
+man, he was at least a child no longer in his father's estimation.
+
+After the children had gone, Mr. Maynard picked out the most delicate or
+valuable of the "auction" goods, and began himself to remove the pasted
+numbers.
+
+"Partly to help the kiddies," he said to his wife, "and partly because I
+know they'd spoil these things. It's all I can do to manage them
+successfully myself."
+
+Next morning at breakfast Mrs. Maynard said; "Well, Midget, now you're at
+home again, what about starting back to school?"
+
+"Oh, Mother!" said Marjorie, looking disconsolate. And then, for she did
+not want to be naughty about it, she added: "All right; I s'pose I must
+go, so I will. But as to-day's Friday I can wait till Monday, can't I?"
+
+Mrs. Maynard smiled. "Yes, I think you may till Monday, if you want to.
+But are you sure you want to?"
+
+"'Deed I _am_ sure!"
+
+"And nothing would make you want to go to-day, instead of waiting till
+Monday?"
+
+"No, _ma'am_! no-_thing_!" and Midget actually pounded the table with her
+knife-handle, so emphatic was she.
+
+"You tell her, Fred," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling at her husband.
+
+"Well, Madcap Mopsy," said her father, "try to bear up under this new
+misfortune; your mother and I have planned a plan, and this is it. How
+would you like it, instead of going to school any more,--I mean to Miss
+Lawrence,--to go every day to lessons with Delight and Miss Hart?"
+
+Marjorie sat still a minute, trying to take it in. It seemed too good to
+be true.
+
+Then dropping her knife and fork, she left her chair and flew round to
+her father's place at table.
+
+Seeing the whirlwind coming, Mr. Maynard pushed back his own chair just
+in time to receive a good-sized burden of delighted humanity that threw
+itself round his neck and squeezed him tight.
+
+"Oh, Father, Father, Father! do you really mean it? Not go to school any
+more at all! And have lessons every day with that lovely Miss Hart, and
+my dear Delight? Oh, Father, you're _such_ a duck!"
+
+"There, there, my child! Don't strangle me, or I'll take it all back!"
+
+"You can't now! You've said it! Oh, I'm so glad! Can I start to-day?"
+
+"Oho!" said Mrs. Maynard; "who was it that said _nothing_ could make her
+want to go to-day instead of Monday?"
+
+Marjorie giggled. "But who could have dreamed you meant this?" she cried,
+leaving her father and flying to caress her mother. "Oh, Mumsie, won't it
+be lovely! Oh, I am _so_ happy!"
+
+"If not, you're a pretty good imitation of a happy little girl," said her
+father; "and now if you'll return to your place and finish your
+breakfast, we'll call it square."
+
+"Square it is, then," said Marjorie, skipping back to her place; "Kit,
+did you ever hear of anything so lovely!"
+
+"Never," said Kitty, "for you. I'd rather go to school and be with the
+girls."
+
+"I didn't mind when Gladys was here, but I've hated it ever since I was
+alone. But to study with Miss Hart,--oh, goody! Is she willing, Mother?"
+
+"Of course, I've discussed it with her and with Mrs. Spencer. Indeed,
+Mrs. Spencer proposed the plan herself, when I was over there yesterday.
+She and Miss Hart think it will be good for Delight to have some one with
+her. So, Midge, you must be a good girl, and not teach Delight all sorts
+of mischief."
+
+"Oh, yes, Mother, I'll be so good you won't know me. Can I start to-day?"
+
+"Yes, if you're sure you want to."
+
+"Want to? I just guess I do!" and Midget danced upstairs to dress for
+"school."
+
+The plan worked admirably. Miss Hart was not only a skilled teacher, but
+a most tactful and clever woman, and as she really loved her two little
+pupils, she taught them so pleasantly that they learned without drudgery.
+
+As the clock hands neared nine every morning, there were no more long
+drawn sighs from Marjorie, but smiles and cheery good-byes, as the little
+girl gaily left the house and skipped across the street.
+
+The daily association, too, brought her into closer friendship with
+Delight, and the two girls became real chums. Their natures were so
+different, that they reacted favorably on one another, and under Miss
+Hart's gentle and wise guidance the two girls improved in every way.
+
+It was one day in the very last part of February that Midge came home to
+find a letter for her on the hall table.
+
+"From Gladys," she cried and tore it open.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "I didn't think! Miss Hart told me never
+to open a letter with my finger, but to wait till I could get a
+letter-opener. Well, it's too late now, I'll remember next time."
+
+She looked ruefully at the untidy edges of the envelope, but pulled the
+letter out and began to read it.
+
+"DEAR MARJORIE:
+
+"I'm coming to see you, that is, if you want me to. Father has to go
+East, and he will leave me at your house while he goes to New York. I
+will get there on Friday and stay four days. I will be glad to see you
+again.
+
+"Sincerely yours,
+
+"GLADYS FULTON."
+
+Marjorie smiled at the stiff formal letter, which was the sort Gladys
+always wrote, and then she went in search of her mother.
+
+"Gladys is coming on Friday," she announced.
+
+"That's very nice, my dear," said Mrs. Maynard; "you'll be so glad to see
+her again, won't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Midget, but she said it slowly, and with a troubled look in
+her eyes.
+
+"Well, what is it, dear? Tell Mother."
+
+"I don't know exactly,--but somehow I'm not so awfully pleased to have
+Gladys come. You see, she may not like Delight, and I want them to like
+each other."
+
+"Why do you want them to?"
+
+"_Why_ do I? Mother, what a funny question! Why, I want them to like each
+other because I like them both."
+
+"But you don't seem anxious lest Delight won't like Gladys."
+
+"Oh, of course she'll like her! Delight is so sweet and amiable, she'd
+like anybody that I like. But Gladys is,--well,--touchy."
+
+"Which do you care more for, dearie?"
+
+"Mothery, that's just what bothers me I'm getting to like Delight better
+and better. And that doesn't seem fair to Gladys, for she's my old
+friend, and I wouldn't be unloyal to her for anything. So you see, I
+don't know which I like best."
+
+"Well, Marjorie, I'll tell you. In the first place, you mustn't take it
+so seriously. Friendships among children are very apt to change when one
+moves away and another comes. Now both these little girls are your good
+friends, but it stands to reason that the one you're with every day
+should be nearer and dearer than one who lives thousands of miles away.
+So I want you to enjoy Delight's friendship, and consider her your
+dearest friend, if you choose, without feeling that you are disloyal to
+Gladys."
+
+"Could I, Mother?"
+
+"Certainly, dear. That is all quite right. Now, when Gladys comes, for a
+few days, you must devote yourself especially to her, as she will be your
+house-guest; and if she and Delight aren't entirely congenial, then you
+must exclude Delight while Gladys is here. You may not like to do this,
+and it may not be necessary, but if it is, then devote yourself to
+Gladys' pleasure and preferences, because it is your duty. To be a good
+hostess is an important lesson for any girl or woman to learn, and you
+are not too young to begin."
+
+"Shall I tell Delight I'm going to do this?"
+
+"Not before Gladys comes. They may admire each other immensely; then
+there will be no occasion to mention it. When is Gladys coming?"
+
+"On Friday. That's only three days off."
+
+"Then we must begin to plan a little for her pleasures. As she will only
+be here four days, we can't do very much. Suppose we have a little party
+Saturday afternoon, then she can meet all her Rockwell friends."
+
+"Yes, that will be lovely. And I do hope she and Delight will like each
+other."
+
+"Why of course they will, Midget. There's no reason why they shouldn't."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+A VISIT FROM GLADYS
+
+Gladys came Friday afternoon and Marjorie welcomed her with open arms,
+truly happy to see her friend again.
+
+"Tell me all about your new home, Glad," said Midge, as the two settled
+themselves on either end of the sofa for a chat.
+
+"Oh, it's just lovely, Mops. It's like summer all the time. And the
+flowers are in bloom all about, and the birds sing in the trees, and
+everybody wears white dresses and summer hats even in February."
+
+"That _is_ lovely. And is your father getting better?"
+
+"Yes, some better. He just _had_ to come to New York on some business,
+but the doctor said he must not stay but a few days. So we have to start
+back on Tuesday."
+
+"It's a shame. I wish you could stay longer."
+
+"So do I. But I'm glad to go back, too. I go to a lovely school there,
+and I know the nicest girls and boys."
+
+"Nicer than Rockwell children?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. Yes, I guess so. My most intimate friend is a lovely
+girl. Her name is Florence Lawton. Isn't that a pretty name?"
+
+"Why, Gladys Fulton! I'm your most intimate friend! Do you like her
+better than me?"
+
+Gladys' eyes opened wide.
+
+"Midget Maynard," she said, "what do you mean? Of course you were my best
+friend here, but when I'm out there don't you s'pose I've got to have
+somebody else to play with and to tell secrets to?"
+
+Somehow this idea made Midget's heart lighter. It justified her in taking
+Delight as a chum in Gladys' place.
+
+"Yes, of course," she responded. "Our letters don't seem to amount to
+much, do they, Glad?"
+
+"No, I'm no good at all at writing letters. Don't you have any chum in my
+place, Mopsy?"
+
+"Why, yes, I s'pose I do," said Marjorie, slowly, for it was just
+beginning to dawn on her that Delight _had_ taken Gladys' place. "I'm
+awfully good friends with Delight Spencer, who lives in the house you
+used to live in."
+
+"Delight! what a pretty name."
+
+"Yes, and she's an awfully pretty girl. You'll see her while you're here,
+of course."
+
+Very soon the first strangeness of the reunion was over, and the two were
+chatting away as gaily as if they had never been separated.
+
+Then Delight came over. She had promised Marjorie she'd come over to see
+Gladys, but she came rather unwillingly. The truth is, she felt a little
+jealous of Marjorie's older friend, and was not prepared to like her.
+
+Delight was dressed in some of her prettiest clothes, and the big black
+velvet hat on her fair golden hair made a lovely picture.
+
+Gladys thought she was beautiful, and welcomed her warmly, but Delight,
+when introduced, seemed to shrink back into herself and sat stiffly on
+the edge of a chair, holding her muff and saying nothing.
+
+"Oh, Delight," cried Midget, "don't act like that. Take off your things,
+and let's play."
+
+"No, I can't stay but a few minutes," said Delight, primly.
+
+She sat there, looking very uncomfortable, and though Midge and Gladys
+tried to make her more chummy, they didn't succeed.
+
+Finally, Delight rose to go, and as Gladys didn't care much for such a
+spoil sport, she said nothing to detain her. Midget went to the door with
+her, and as Delight went out she turned to Midge, with her eyes full of
+tears, and said: "You like her better than you do me, so I'll go."
+
+"Go on, then," said Marjorie, utterly exasperated by such foolishness, as
+she considered it.
+
+"What ails her?" said Gladys, as Marjorie returned.
+
+"Why, I suppose it's because you're here. She never acted that way
+before. You see, she's a spoiled child, and she always wants everything
+her own way. It's awfully funny, Gladys, but I thought maybe you wouldn't
+like her and here it's the other way about!"
+
+"Oh, I like her, or at least I would if she'd let me. I think she's the
+prettiest girl I ever saw. Don't you?"
+
+"Yes, I do. And she's awfully nice, too, if she didn't have this tantrum
+about you."
+
+"Oh, well, she'll get over it," returned Gladys; "I shan't be here long,
+anyway."
+
+The day after Gladys' arrival was the first Saturday in March.
+
+First Saturdays were usually "Ourdays," when Mr. Maynard took a whole day
+from his business and devoted it to the entertainment of his children.
+
+It was King's turn to choose how the day should be spent, but, as a party
+in honor of Gladys had been arranged for the afternoon, there was only
+the morning to choose for.
+
+They were all discussing the matter the night before, and King kindly
+offered to give his turn to one of the girls, that they might choose
+something to please Gladys.
+
+"No, indeed," said Midget. "We like boys' fun as well as girls' fun; so
+you choose ahead, King."
+
+"All right, then. If you girls agree, I'd like to build a snow fort. This
+is a jolly deep snow, the best we've had this winter, and likely the last
+we'll have. Father's a jim dandy at snow games, and we could have an
+out-of-door frolic in the morning, and then Glad's party in the house in
+the afternoon."
+
+"Goody! I say yes to that," cried Midget.
+
+"I too," said Gladys. "We don't have any snow in California, and I don't
+know when I'll see any again."
+
+"I'm satisfied," said Kitty, "can I ask Dorothy over?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Maynard; "ask anybody you choose."
+
+So next morning, soon after breakfast, the children put on all the
+warmest wraps they could find, and in tam o'shanter caps, tippets,
+mittens and leggings, started out for their Ourday fun.
+
+The snow was more than a foot deep all over the great lawn, and Mr.
+Maynard selected a fine place for a fort. He taught the boys,--for King
+had asked Flip to come over,--how to cut and pack great blocks of solid
+snow, and the girls he showed how to make balls and cones for decoration.
+
+Once Midget caught sight of Delight peeping across at them from behind a
+curtain. "I'm going over to ask her to come," she said; "I didn't ask her
+before, because I thought she wouldn't come. But, I believe she will."
+
+So Midge scampered across the street and rang the Spencer's door bell.
+
+"Won't you come over?" she said, as soon as she saw Delight. "It's an
+Ourday, and we're having such fun!"
+
+"No, thank you," said Delight; "you don't need me when you have Gladys."
+
+"Don't be silly!" said Midget. "What's the reason I can't play with you
+both? Come on."
+
+"Oh, I don't want to come," said Delight pettishly. "Go on back."
+
+So Marjorie went back, alone, walking slowly, for she couldn't understand
+Delight's behavior.
+
+But once again in the fun of the snow play, she forgot all about her
+ill-natured little neighbor.
+
+They built a grand fort, with a flag waving from its summit, and then
+with soft snowballs for ammunition, they chose sides and had the merriest
+kind of a battle. Afterward they built a snow man and a snow woman.
+
+These were of heroic size, so big that Mr. Maynard had to climb a
+step-ladder to put their heads in place.
+
+The man, according to the time-honored tradition of all snow men, wore a
+battered old high hat, and had a pipe in his mouth, while the old woman
+wore a sun bonnet and checked apron.
+
+They were comical figures, indeed, and when they were completed it was
+time to go in to luncheon, and Dorothy and Flip scampered for their
+homes.
+
+"Now, gentlemen of the jury," said Mr. Maynard, at the lunch table, "as
+we have still two good hours before it's time to array ourselves in
+purple and fine linen for the party, suppose we continue our outdoor
+sports and go for a sleigh ride? It's up to you, King."
+
+"Fine!" agreed King. "If it suits the ladies of the castle."
+
+"It do," said Kitty; "the ladies fair would fain go for a sleigh ride.
+May I ask Dorothy?"
+
+"Not this time, Kittums," said her father. "I've ordered a big double
+sleigh, and we'll just fill it comfortably."
+
+And so they did, with Mr. and Mrs. Maynard on the wide back seat and Rosy
+Posy between, them; Midget, Gladys, and Kitty facing them, and King up on
+the box with the driver.
+
+A span of big powerful horses took them flying over the snow, and the
+crisp, keen air made their cheeks rosy and their eyes bright.
+
+It was a fine sleigh ride, and the jingling bells made a merry
+accompaniment to the children's chatter and laughter.
+
+"Ice cream, Kitty?" asked her father as they entered a small town, and
+drew up before the funny little inn that was its principal hostelry--
+
+"No, sir!" said Kitty, whose teeth were chattering, "it's too cold!"
+
+"Well, I never expected to live long enough to hear Kitty say no to ice
+cream!" exclaimed Mrs. Maynard in surprise.
+
+"It's a cold day when that happens, isn't it Kit?" asked her father.
+"Well, jump out then, and stamp your toes, and thaw your ears."
+
+They all went into the little inn, and warmed themselves by the fire, and
+had a drink of hot milk or hot soup, as they preferred, and then bundled
+back into the sleigh for the homeward ride.
+
+"I'm not cold now," said Kitty, cuddling into the fur robes.
+
+The horses dashed back again over the snow, and soon after three o'clock
+they were at home.
+
+The party was at four, so there was ample time to get ready.
+
+"What kind of a party is it to be father?" asked Midge. "Any special
+kind?"
+
+"Special kind?" said Mr. Maynard; "I should say so! It's an animal party,
+to be sure!"
+
+"An animal party?" said Gladys, to Midge, as they went upstairs to dress;
+"what does he mean?"
+
+"I don't know. You never can tell what Father's going to do. Especially
+on an Ourday. He always gets up lovely things for Ourdays."
+
+"He's a jolly man," said Gladys; "I never saw anybody like him."
+
+"Nor I either," agreed Midge; "I think he's just perfect."
+
+The little girls all wore white dresses, each with a different colored
+ribbon, and were all ready, and sitting in state, at ten minutes before
+the hour appointed for the party.
+
+"Isn't Delight coming, Mopsy?" asked Mrs. Maynard.
+
+"No, mother; I just telephoned her, and she won't come. She's acting up
+foolish about Glad, you know."
+
+"Indeed it _is_ foolish," said Mrs. Maynard, looking annoyed; "I think
+I'll run over there and see what I can do."
+
+"Oh, do, Mother; you always make everything come out all right."
+
+"But I don't know whether I can make a silly little girl come out all
+right; however, I'll try."
+
+Mrs. Maynard threw on some wraps and went over to the house across the
+street.
+
+What arguments she used, or what she said to Delight, Marjorie never
+knew, but she returned, after a time, bringing both Delight and Miss Hart
+with her.
+
+Delight made a beautiful picture in a filmy, lacy white frock, and a big
+blue bow on her golden curls.
+
+"Hello, Flossy Flouncy!" cried King, and this broke the ice, and made it
+easier for Delight than a more formal greeting would have done.
+
+"Hello, Old King Cole!" she responded, and then a number of other people
+came, and a general hubbub of conversation ensued.
+
+"This is an animal party," said Mr. Maynard, when all the guests had
+arrived. Now where were the most animals ever gathered together?"
+
+"In the circus!" cried one boy, and another said, "In the menagerie."
+
+"Try again," said Mr. Maynard; "not right yet!"
+
+"Hippodrome," shouted somebody, and "zoo!" cried somebody else, but to
+each Mr. Maynard shook his head.
+
+"Go farther back," he said; "what was the first collection of animals in
+the world?"
+
+And then Delight thought what he meant, and cried out, "Noah's Ark!"
+
+"Of course!" said Mr. Maynard. "That's the place I meant. Well, then,
+here's an ark for each of you, and you can each play you're Noah."
+
+He whisked a table cover off of a table by his side, and there was a
+great pile of toy Noah's arks. King and Flip distributed them, until
+everybody had one.
+
+"Why, they're empty?" cried Midge, looking into hers.
+
+"They won't be long," said her father. "Now, young people, scatter, and
+fill your arks with animals. Pretend you're hunting in the jungle, or
+whatever you like, but capture all the animals you can find for your
+arks. There are hundreds in these two rooms and the halls."
+
+"Hidden?" asked Kitty.
+
+"Yes, hidden and in plain sight, both. But wait; there's a schedule."
+
+Mr. Maynard unfolded a paper, and read:
+
+"Elephants count five, tigers ten, lions fifteen, bears five, kangaroos
+five, cats five; all two-legged animals or birds two, fishes one, camels
+twenty-five, and zebras fifty. After your arks are filled, we'll count
+them up according to schedule, and award prizes. Now, scoot!" They
+scooted, and spent a merry half hour hunting the animals. They found them
+in all sorts of places,--tucked in behind curtains, under sofa-pillows,
+between books, and round among the bric-a-brac on mantels and tables.
+They were the little wooden animals that belonged in the arks, and the
+children were greatly amused when they discovered, also, the small, queer
+little people that represent Noah and his family.
+
+"I s'pose as these are two-legged animals they count as birds," said
+King.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Maynard, "all bipeds count alike."
+
+As Marjorie made a dive for a tiger which she saw in the lower part of
+the hall hatrack, somebody else dived for it at the very same moment.
+
+It was Delight, and both girls sat suddenly down on the floor, laughing
+at their bumped heads.
+
+But when Delight saw that it was Midget, she stopped laughing and looked
+sober, and even sour.
+
+"Don't, Delight," said Marjorie, gently, and putting her arms round her
+friend, she kissed her lovingly.
+
+This melted Delight's foolish little heart, and she whispered, "Oh,
+Midge, you do like me best, don't you?"
+
+But Midge was in no mood for emotional demonstration down under the
+hatrack, so she scrambled up, saying, "I shan't if you act as foolish as
+you have done. You behave decently to Gladys and to me, and then see
+what'll happen."
+
+With this Midge calmly walked away and collected more animals, while
+Delight, rather stunned by this summary advice, jumped up and went after
+animals, too.
+
+At last the collecting was over and the children brought their arks to
+Mr. Maynard. With Miss Hart to help him, it didn't take very long to
+figure out the schedule value of each ark-full, and prizes were given to
+those three whose score was highest.
+
+Flip Henderson had first prize, and Delight had second, while the third
+went to Harry Frost. Delight was greatly pleased, and Marjorie was glad,
+too, for she thought it might make her more amiable.
+
+But that wasn't the reason; the real reason was because Midge had kissed
+her, and then had scolded her roundly. This combination of treatment
+affected the strange little heart of Delight, and she began at once to be
+nice and pleasant to Gladys and to everybody.
+
+The next game was like Jackstraws, but it wasn't Jackstraws.
+
+All the ark-fulls of animals were emptied out into a heap on the table,
+and the children sat round. Each was given a teaspoon, and with this they
+must remove as many animals as possible without moving any other than the
+one touched. They might use either end of the teaspoon, but must not use
+their fingers.
+
+The animals counted as in the former schedule and as each was picked from
+the pile it was given to Miss Hart, and she credited it to the player who
+took it.
+
+Of course, as in Jackstraws, if one made a mis-play it was the next
+player's turn. This game was great fun, and they watched each other
+breathlessly, though careful not to joggle anybody.
+
+"Now, Flossy Flouncy," cried King, "it's your turn. In you go! Catch a
+camel first thing!"
+
+Delight was a little embarrassed at King's raillery, but she was bound
+she wouldn't show it, and her slim little white fingers grasped the
+teaspoon firmly.
+
+She only took off a few, for the excitement of it made her nervous and
+her hand shook. But she was glad she didn't win a prize in that game, for
+nobody likes to win two prizes at the same party.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+CHESSY CATS
+
+After that game they played several other animal games, some quiet and
+some noisy, and then Mr. Maynard announced that they would play "Chessy
+Cats."
+
+"What in the world is that?" said Gladys to King. "I never heard of it."
+
+"Nor I," he responded; "probably Father made it up. Well, we'll soon
+see."
+
+Mr. Maynard chose two captains, one being Gladys, as it was really her
+party, and the other Flip Henderson.
+
+These two captains were asked to stand opposite each other at the end of
+the room, and to "choose sides."
+
+"You must each," said Mr. Maynard, "choose the girls or boys who seem to
+you most like Chessy Cats."
+
+This advice was not very intelligible, but as it was Gladys' turn to
+choose first, she chose King.
+
+Then Flip chose Marjorie, as it seemed to him polite to take his hostess.
+
+Then in a burst of good feeling Gladys chose Delight, and though she
+wanted to refuse, she stifled her ill-nature and stood up next to King.
+
+Then the choosing went on until all were taken, and the two long lines
+stood on either side of the room.
+
+"You see," said Mr. Maynard, "this is a contest of happiness. I want to
+see which line of children represents the greater amount of merriment.
+Will you all please smile?"
+
+Every face broke into a grin, and Mr. Maynard looked at them
+thoughtfully.
+
+"You all seem happy," he said; "a fine lot of Chessy Cats. You know
+Chessy Cats are remarkable for their wide grins. But as I have a prize
+for the side that shows most grin, I have to be careful of my decision.
+Miss Hart, if you will help me, I think we'll have to find out _exactly_
+which row of Chessy Cats grins the widest."
+
+Miss Hart, smiling like a Chessy Cat herself, came forward with a lot of
+short strips of white paper in her hand. She gave half of these to Mr.
+Maynard, and then the fun began.
+
+They actually measured each child's grin, marking on the paper with a
+pencil the exact length of each mouth from corner to corner as it was
+stretched in a smile. Of course a fresh paper was used for each, and wide
+indeed was the grin when the grinner realized the absurdity of having his
+smile measured!
+
+Then, of course, each tried to grin his very widest, for the success of
+his line and the glory of his captain. Delight's little rosebud mouth
+couldn't make a very wide grin, but she stretched it as wide as possible,
+showing her pretty white teeth, and held it motionless while it was
+measured.
+
+It was astonishing how wide some of them could stretch their smiling
+mouths, and how absurd they looked while standing stock still to be
+measured. Their ridiculous grimaces caused shouts of laughter from the
+Chessy Cats who were not being measured at the moment.
+
+"Midget! she's the one that counts!" cried King. "She's got a smile like
+an earthquake! Flossy Flouncy, here, she won't count half as much!"
+
+Marjorie only laughed at King's comment, and spread her rosy lips in a
+desperate effort to beat the record.
+
+At last all were measured, and taking a pair of scissors, Miss Hart
+clipped the ends off the papers where the mark was, and thus each paper
+represented the exact width of a smile.
+
+The papers of each side were then placed end to end, and the whole length
+measured. The result was fifty-four inches of smile for Flip's side, and
+fifty-two for Gladys'.
+
+"Hooray, Mopsy!" cried King. "I knew your mouth was two inches bigger
+than Delight's!"
+
+"Oh, no, brother," rejoined Midge, "it's because your mouth is so tiny
+you can't smile very well!"
+
+But whatever the reason, there was a good two inches difference in the
+aggregate, so Flip Henderson's side was the winner.
+
+"As all the Chessy Cats grinned nobly, you must all have prizes," said
+Mr. Maynard, and so to the winning side were given boxes of candy with a
+funny figure of a grinning Chessy Cat on top. Both boxes and cats were
+bright red, and gay little prizes they were.
+
+"But as the other side were too sad and solemn to grin broadly, we'll
+give them black cats," said Mr. Maynard, and all of Gladys' line received
+prizes exactly like the others, except that the cats were black. Of
+course, they were equally pretty and desirable, and were really souvenirs
+of the party instead of prizes.
+
+Then they all went to the dining-room for supper. Miss Hart played a
+merry march on the piano, and King, escorting Gladys, went first,
+Marjorie and Flip followed, and then all the children came, two by two.
+
+To carry out the idea of an "animal party," the table had been cleverly
+arranged to represent a farmyard. All the middle part of it was enclosed
+by a little fence that ran along just inside the plates, and in the
+enclosure were toy animals of all sorts. Downy yellow chickens, furry
+cats, woolly sheep, and comical roosters stood about in gay array. Also
+there were Teddy Bears, and possums and even lions and tigers, which
+though not usually found in farmyards, seemed amicably disposed enough. A
+delightful feast was eaten, and then, for dessert, Sarah brought in a
+great platter of ice cream in forms of animals. And with these animals
+crackers were served, and many merry jests were made as the children bit
+off the heads of ferocious wild beasts, or stabbed the ice cream animals
+with their spoons. As they left the table, each guest was invited to take
+one animal from the "farmyard," to carry away.
+
+Rosy Posy announced frankly, "Don't anybuddy take de Teddy Bear, 'cause
+me wants it."
+
+They all laughed, and needless to say, the bear was left for the baby,
+whose turn came last.
+
+Delight chose a little white kitten, with a blue ribbon round its neck,
+and Gladys took a fierce-looking tiger.
+
+Everybody agreed they had never attended a jollier party, and the smiles,
+as they said good-bye, were indeed of the Chessy Cat variety.
+
+"Ourday isn't over yet, Father," said Midge, after the last guest had
+gone.
+
+"Oho, I think it's time little Chessy Cats went to bed," said Mr.
+Maynard.
+
+"No, indeed! the party was from four to seven, and though they staid a
+little later, it's only half-past seven now. And Ourday nights we always
+stay up till half-past eight."
+
+"My stars! a whole hour more of Chessy Cats! That's enough to make any
+one grin. All right Midgety, what do you want me to do?"
+
+"It's King's choose," said Marjorie; "it's his Ourday, you know."
+
+So King chose "Twenty Questions," a game of which he never tired, and a
+jolly hour they all spent in playing it.
+
+Then bedtime was definitely announced, and it was a lot of rather tired
+Chessy Cats who climbed the stairs, after many and repeated good-nights.
+
+As Gladys' visit was to be such a short one Mrs. Maynard advised Midget
+not to go to lessons during her stay.
+
+Marjorie was a little disappointed at this, but she couldn't very well go
+off and leave Gladys, and it would have been awkward to take her, so she
+staid away herself. The two girls had good times, and both Mr. and Mrs.
+Maynard planned many pleasant things for their enjoyment, but still
+Marjorie was not altogether sorry when on Tuesday Gladys took her
+departure.
+
+"What's this fuss about Gladys and Delight?" asked Mr. Maynard, as they
+all sat chatting Tuesday evening.
+
+"Oh, Father, it's so silly!" said Marjorie; "I don't know what to make of
+Delight. It isn't a bit Glad's fault. She was as sweet as pie; but
+Delight was as sour as buttermilk."
+
+"She's jealous, I suppose."
+
+"Yes, I suppose that's it. But, you see, Father, she's a different girl
+from us."
+
+"Different how?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know exactly. But she's sort of a spoiled child, you know,
+and whatever she has, she hates to have any one else touch it."
+
+"Even you."
+
+"Yes, even me. I like Delight an awful lot, but I like Gladys too."
+
+"Of course you do. Now, Midget, listen to your old and wise Father.
+Forget all this foolishness. Gladys is gone now, and Delight is your very
+good friend, your best friend in Rockwell. Just keep on being friends
+with her, and do all you can to be a good friend. Don't discuss Gladys
+with her, don't discuss her actions, or her jealousy, or whatever
+foolishness is in her pretty little noddle. You are both too young to
+take these things seriously. But if you are a kind, loyal little friend
+to her, she will soon learn to be the same to you."
+
+"But, Father, she wants me all to herself. She doesn't like to have me be
+friends with the other girls in Rockwell even."
+
+"That you mustn't stand. Just go on in your own way. Be friendly with
+whom you choose, but always be kind and considerate of Delight's
+feelings. Of course, you two having your lessons alone together is
+largely responsible for this state of things. School would be better for
+you both in many ways. But you like the present arrangement, and Miss
+Hart is a blessing to you both. I think she can help you in persuading
+Delight to be a little less exacting."
+
+"Yes, Father, she does; she understands the case, and she's always trying
+to make Delight less selfish."
+
+"And perhaps,--I hate to suggest it,--but _possibly_ Miss Mopsy Maynard
+_might_ have some little tiny speck of a fault,--just a microscopic flaw
+in her character--"
+
+"Now, Father, don't tease! I know I have! I'm a bad, impulsive,
+mischievous old thing, and I never think in time,--then the first thing I
+know I've done something awful! Delight's not a bit like that."
+
+"Oh, you needn't give yourself such a dreadful character. I know you
+pretty well, and I'm quite pleased, on the whole, with my eldest
+daughter. But I do want you to learn to be a little less heedless; you
+know heedlessness is, after all, a sort of selfishness,--a disregard of
+others' convenience."
+
+"I'm going to try, Father. I'll try real hard, and if I don't succeed,
+I'll try, try again."
+
+"That's my good little Mopsy. Now, skip to bed, and don't let these
+serious matters keep you awake. Forget them, and dream of fairies and
+princesses dressed in pearls and roses and all sorts of lovely things."
+
+"And blue velvet robes trimmed with ermine?"
+
+"Yes, and golden sceptres, and swanboats to ride in on lakes where pond
+lilies bloom."
+
+"And golden chariots, with milk white steeds, garlanded with flowers."
+
+"Yes,--and that's about all; good-night."
+
+"And enchanted carpets that carry you in a minute to India and Arabia."
+
+"Yes, and upstairs to bed! Good-night."
+
+"And knights in armor, with glittering spears--"
+
+"Good-night, Marjorie Maynard!"
+
+"Good-night, Father. And rose-gardens with fountains and singing birds--"
+
+"Skip, you rascal! Scamper, fly, scoot! Good-night for the last time!"
+
+"Good-night," called Marjorie, half way up-stairs, "good-night, Father
+dear."
+
+"Good-night, Midget, good-night."
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, MARJORIE'S NEW FRIEND ***
+
+This file should be named 7mjnf10.txt or 7mjnf10.zip
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