THE BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST
The sun was away up in the sky and was flooding her room with a warm
radiance when Mary Louise awoke. The soft twitter of the birds and
the clip-clip of a lawn mower next door came in through the windows.
Stretching her slender body and yawning prodigiously, she clambered out
of bed. The breeze was softly fluttering the curtains, and a tiny moss
rosebud which had climbed that high, tapped alluringly against the sill
of the open window.
Mary Louise decided that it was a very wonderful world to be out in,
and that she would hurry and get dressed. In a short time she entered
the dining-room to tell Aunt Sally she would have her breakfast.
Suddenly she stopped short in sheer amazement at the table. Then the
recollection came to her. To be sure, to-day was her birthday! How like
Grandpa Jim to plan this surprise for her, and how like Aunt Sally to
carry it out so beautifully! The huge round mahogany table was covered
with a cloth of exquisite lace. In a low basket in the center of the
table, dozens of pale pink rosebuds were clustered together, their
graceful little heads bobbing in all directions about the handle of
the basket. A tiny rosebud nestled at all of the eight plates, to give
a dainty welcome to each young girl invited to Mary Louise’s birthday
breakfast.
Out in the garden Mary Louise caught a glimpse of her grandfather and
Josie O’Gorman walking arm in arm along the garden paths, and out she
rushed to them.
“What a perfectly beautiful surprise,” sang Mary Louise as she caught
up with them.
“Happy Birthday!” they both called out to her as in one breath.
Then the guests began to arrive. Irene came first from the house next
door, her wheel chair coming easily over the gravel path. She gave Mary
Louise a very tender birthday kiss, and pressed upon her a large box
filled with delicious home-made candy.
“Aunty Hannah and I made it for you this morning, dear Mary Louise,”
she said.
“How lovely!” cried Mary Louise, her eyes asparkle with excitement
and delight, and running to the gate, she met the other guests who
were just arriving. Each brought a little gift to tell their love for
Mary Louise. Laura Hilton brought an ingenious toy automobile with a
uniformed tin driver very erect at the wheel.
Aunt Sally appeared at this moment to ask them in to breakfast, so
the laughing, happy girls went in, their bright-hued gowns making a
veritable rainbow about the table.
“And now,” cried Alora, leaning across the table, “we’ve waited just as
long as we possibly can; tell us all about the automobile.”
“Yes, and the thief,” added Lucile Neal, eagerly.
Mary Louise most wisely held her peace. Instead of explaining she
turned to Josie O’Gorman saying, “Goodness, don’t ask me to tell you
when we have a regular unraveler of mysteries there to spin the yarn
for us.”
“To be sure,” exclaimed Phoebe Phelps. “Josie, be careful to tell us
every single word.”
So Josie, nothing loth, told her own version of the missing car, that
version being just what Mary Louise wished it to be. So the recounting
was highly satisfactory to all.
As they talked and exclaimed, Aunt Sally served one delicious course
after another, and the happy, healthy girls enjoyed it all.
As they left the dining room and strolled out on to the wide veranda,
resting in the wide and roomy swing or in the lounging cretonne chairs,
Josie said, with regret in her voice: “Girls, I’m sorry, but I’ve got
to go back to Washington on the next train.”
“Oh, Josie,” wailed Mary Louise; “must you really leave on my beautiful
birthday?” But realizing it was useless to try to dissuade her, she
added: “Well, anyway, we’ll all pile into the car and take you to the
station.”
“Yes, luckily we’ve got the car to pile into,” echoed Josie.
So with a great deal of laughter and much chatter the Liberty Girls
adjourned to the garage.
After Mary Louise had safely deposited Josie on the train for
Washington and her friends at their houses, she turned the car slowly
toward her own home. Somehow she did not want to return just yet. Of a
sudden her heart was strangely heavy.
She had had a perfect birthday, she told herself, so what more could
she possibly want? That she did want something more, however, was
quite obvious, or why should two fat tears start from her eyes and go
bouncing down the smoothness of her cheeks.
Mary Louise was not surprised to find that she was crying. It would
never do for Grandpa Jim to think her unhappy when he had been so dear
to-day, so she turned the corner and started quickly for a country road.
Anywhere, just any place where she could be alone and think.
“Grandpa Jim never, never has forgotten my birthday,” thought Mary
Louise, as her car spun along the macadam. “Oh, why couldn’t Danny
have remembered just this once,” and two more tears were added to the
collection.
This fact rather startled Mary Louise. Could that be the reason she was
crying? Because Danny had forgotten her? In her amazement Mary Louise
slowly stopped the car at the entrance to a grassy lane.
Instantly she realized it was the very lane where Danny had come to
her the night before and where she had been so glad to see him. Rather
dazedly she climbed out of the auto and wandered slowly down the lane.
Just to reach the spot where she and Danny had been together, and just
to be alone and think--that was what she wanted.
Her bright pink gingham was as fresh and sweet as the wild roses it
brushed in passing, and her cheeks were flushed a rose hue too. The
flower-wreathed Leghorn hat she wore made deeper shadows in her eyes.
But Mary Louise knew nothing of all that.
To the lad who ten minutes before had flung himself upon the ground,
her slow approach down the lane was like the coming of an angel.
He jumped up quickly and went to her. Mary Louise was startled by
the unexpected movement and as she glanced up quickly she saw Danny
approaching.
“Mary Louise,” said Danny simply, “I’m glad you came here before the
day was over. Yes,” he explained, as Mary Louise’s eyes questioned him,
“I haven’t forgotten it’s your birthday, and I want to wish you all the
happiness in the world; you deserve every bit of joy there is.”
“Oh, no,” said Mary Louise, with a happy little flush, “but I’m glad
you thought of me, Danny.”
“Of course, I did,” said Danny, and then added rather shyly as he
held out a little package, “Mary Louise, I know that to-day is your
birthday, and I want so much to give you what I cherish most. May I?”
And Mary Louise said he might. Mary Louise opened the package and
found the most wonderful birthday present any girl could have,--the
Distinguished Service Medal of her hero.