A BIRTHDAY
"Mopsy," said Uncle Steve one morning, "I understand that next week
Thursday has the honor of being your birthday."
"Yes, Uncle Steve, and I'll be twelve years old."
"My gracious goodness! What an old lady you are getting to be! Well,
now for such an occasion as that we must celebrate in some way. So I'm
going to give you a choice of pleasures. Would you rather have a party,
a picnic, or a present?"
Marjorie considered. She well knew that a present which would balance
against a party or a picnic would be a fine present, indeed. And so,
after a moment's thought, she replied:
"I'll take the present, thank you, Uncle Steve; for somehow I feel sure
we'll have picnics this summer, as we always do; and I don't care much
about a party, because I know so few children around here."
"All right, then, Midget; a present it shall be, but with this
stipulation: you must promise not to go down into the south orchard
from now until next Thursday."
"Why not?" asked Mopsy, her eyes wide open with astonishment.
"Principally, because I tell you not to, and I want you to obey me; but
I don't mind explaining that it is because I shall be there, at least
part of the time, making your present; and as I want it to be a
surprise, you mustn't come peeping around."
"All right, Uncle Steve, I won't; but why do you make it down there?
Why not make it up here at the house?"
"Midget, your curiosity will some day get you into trouble. I prefer to
do the work in the meadow. Perhaps it is sewing, and I shall take my
work-basket and sit under the big maple-trees to sew."
Marjorie laughed to think of Uncle Steve sewing, but was really burning
with curiosity to know what he was going to do.
However, she had given her word, and she conscientiously kept it. Not
once during those intervening days did she so much as look toward the
south meadow, though if she had done so she would not have been able to
discover what her birthday surprise was to be.
Every day she discussed the subject with Molly and Stella, and each
formed an opinion. Stella thought it was a new flower garden that Uncle
Steve was making for Midge; Molly thought he was having a swing put up,
because she had seen Carter carrying some long timbers over that way.
But the girls considered themselves bound by Mopsy's promise to her
uncle, and conscientiously refrained from going down to the meadow to
investigate.
Grandma, of course, was in the secret, and as a result she often shut
herself into her own room, telling Marjorie she must not come in. She
would stay there for hours at a time, and Mopsy felt sure she was
sewing on something connected with the birthday surprise, as indeed she
was.
As the day came nearer, all the members of the household seemed to be
in a state of great excitement. Carter was running about, bringing
mysterious-looking parcels from the express office, and taking them to
the barn to unpack them.
Eliza was concocting delicious-looking creams and jellies, but they,
Marjorie knew, were for the birthday feast, which would, of course, be
a hilarious festival, although not a party.
At last Thursday morning came, and Marjorie awoke bright and early; and
very soon, arrayed in a fresh, pink gingham frock, went dancing
downstairs.
So early was she that the others had not yet come down, and she went
out into the kitchen to talk to Eliza.
"Oh, me!" she sighed. "I wish Uncle Steve would hurry. It just seems as
if I couldn't wait any longer to know what my birthday surprise is
going to be. Do you know, Eliza?"
"Faix, an' I do, Miss Midge, an' it's a foine gift yer uncle has for
ye!"
"Don't tell me, Eliza, because Uncle Steve said I mustn't ask questions
about it; but do you think I'll like it?"
"'Like it,' is it? 'Deed an' you will thin! Ye'll go crazy as a
loonytic wid joy and delight! An' I'm thinkin' you and Miss Molly will
be after breaking your necks in it, but the little lady Stella,--I'm
feared she won't get in it at all, at all; she'll be too sheared."
"Then it IS a swing," exclaimed Midget, and she felt a little
disappointment, for though a swing was lovely to have, yet she had one
at home, so it was no especial novelty; and, too, she hadn't thought
Uncle Steve would make such a fuss about having a swing built.
"I'm not sayin' it isn't a swing," said Eliza, "and I'm not sayin' it
is. And I'm not sayin' it isn't a merry-go-around-about, or whativer ye
call thim noisy things that they do be havin' down by the circus tent,
and I'm not sayin' it is."
"Don't say any more about what it is or isn't, or I'll guess."
"Indeed you wouldn't, Miss Mopsy, if ye guessed from now until ye're
gray-headed."
This made Midget think that the gift was not a swing, as she had
already guessed that,--and then she heard Uncle Steve's voice calling
her, and she ran gayly back to the dining-room.
The birthday breakfast was a festival indeed. Marjorie's place was
decorated with flowers, and even the back of her chair was garlanded
with wreaths.
At her plate lay such a huge pile of parcels, tied up in bewitching
white papers and gay ribbons, that it seemed as if it would take all
day to examine them.
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Midget. "Did anybody ever have so many
birthday gifts? Are they all for me?"
"Any that you don't want," said Uncle Steve, "you may hand over to me.
I haven't had a birthday for several years now, and I'd be thankful for
one small gift."
"You shall have the nicest one here," declared Marjorie, "and I don't
care what it is, or who sent it."
"The nicest one isn't here," observed Grandma, with a merry twinkle in
her eye, and Marjorie knew that she was thinking of the surprise in the
orchard.
"Of course, I mean except the swing," said Marjorie, looking roguishly
at Uncle Steve to see if she had guessed right.
"You've been peeping!" he exclaimed, in mock reproach, and then
Marjorie knew that whatever it was, it wasn't a swing.
"You know I haven't--you know I wouldn't," she declared, and then she
began to open the lovely-looking bundles.
It did seem as if everybody that Marjorie knew had remembered her
birthday. There were gifts from everybody at home, to begin with. Mrs.
Maynard had sent the sweetest blue-silk sash, and Mr. Maynard a
beautiful book. The children all sent toys or games or trinkets, and
every one seemed to Marjorie to be just what she had wanted.
There was a cup and saucer from Eliza, and small tokens from Carter and
Jane. For Marjorie was a great pet with the servants, and they all
adored her.
But among all the bundles there was no gift from Grandma or Uncle
Steve, and Marjorie wondered what had become of the mysterious work
which Grandma had been doing all shut up in her own room.
But even as she was thinking about it, Grandma explained:
"Our gifts will come later," she said. "When Uncle Steve gives you his
birthday surprise, I will add my contribution."
Just after the last parcel had been untied, Molly and Stella came
flying in. That is, Molly came flying, while serious little Stella
walked at her usual sedate pace.
"Many happy returns of the day!" cried Molly, "and here's my gift." She
had in her arms a large and rather ungainly bundle, loosely wrapped in
white tissue paper.
Together she and Marjorie hastily pulled off the papers, and there was
a beautiful cat-basket trimmed with blue ribbons and lined with soft
cushions for Puff to sleep in.
"Oh!" cried Marjorie, flinging her arms around Molly's neck, "that's
just what I've been wanting ever since I've had that kitten." And
grabbing up Puff, who was never very far away, she laid her in the
basket.
Puff seemed delighted with her new bed, and, after curiously sniffing
and poking into all the nooks and corners of it, she curled up and
began to purr herself to sleep.
Stella's gift was a dainty, little white-silk parasol, with a frill
around it, which seemed to Marjorie the loveliest thing she had ever
seen.
"It's beautiful, Stella!" she exclaimed. "And I shall always carry it
whenever I'm dressed up enough. I hope you girls will have your
birthdays soon, so I can give you some lovely things, too."
"Have you had your surprise yet?" asked impatient Molly, who, according
to her usual fashion, was prancing about the room on one foot; while
Stella sat demurely in a chair, her hands quietly folded in her lap,
though her eyes seemed to make the same inquiry.
"No, not yet," answered Uncle Steve for his niece, "but I think it's
about time for us to see if we can find it."
"All right," cried Marjorie, "let's all go to the orchard!"
"I don't see, Midget," said her uncle, "why you think the surprise is
down at the orchard, just because I told you I was making it down
there. In fact I have my birthday gift for you right here in my pocket."
Marjorie looked rather blank. She knew Uncle Steve loved to tease her,
but she had certainly expected some out-of-door gift, and to receive a
little trinket that could be carried in a pocket was a surprise indeed.
In proof of his words Uncle Steve drew a neatly-tied parcel from a
pocket of his morning coat and handed it to Marjorie. It was about the
size of a one-pound box of candy, and sure enough, when Marjorie
eagerly pulled off the paper, the gilt letters on the cover proclaimed
it a candy-box. Marjorie felt positive that her uncle would not offer
her candy as a birthday gift, for he often brought her that on any
ordinary day of the year. But she was mystified, and she took off the
cover, not knowing herself what she expected to see. To her surprise,
inside the box was another parcel, a trifle smaller, and on the paper
which wrapped it was written:
"I am not candy as you thought, I bring you joys that can't be bought."
Marjorie began to understand that it was one of Uncle Steve's elaborate
jokes, and she didn't know whether further search would reveal a
valuable, though tiny gift, or some absurd hoax.
She took out the second box and tore off the wrappings. Molly eagerly
helped her pull off the ribbon and paper, and though Stella sat quietly
by, she, too, almost held her breath to see what would happen next.
Marjorie opened the second box, and this time was not so much surprised
to see that it contained another wrapped and tied box. On this one was
written:
"Oho, Miss Mopsy, fooled again! Suppose you keep on trying, then."
"Indeed, I will," cried Mopsy; "I expect there are a thousand boxes,
each smaller than the other, and when I get to the end I'll find a
bright penny, or something like that!"
"If you think that," said Uncle Steve, "I'll offer you two cents for
the bundle as it is now; and then, you see, you'll double your money!"
"No siree!" cried Marjorie, "for, you see, I don't know. It MAY be a
diamond ring, but that wouldn't do me much good, as I couldn't wear it
until I'm grown up."
"Hurry up," cried Molly, who was dancing about, both helping and
hindering Marjorie, "let's see what the next box says."
On the next box was written:
"Just a hint I'll give to you; I'm of metal, tied with blue."
"Metal, tied with blue!" screamed Molly, "What can that be? A hoe,
perhaps, tied up with a blue ribbon."
"What kind of a hoe could you get in such a little box?" said Stella.
"_I_ think it's a locket," said Marjorie, "on a blue ribbon to hang
round your neck."
The next box said:
"Very seldom you will use me, But you'd cry if you should lose me."
"Ho!" said Marjorie, "if I'm going to use this thing so seldom I don't
think I'd cry if I should lose it."
"Perhaps it's a something for Sunday," suggested Molly, "then you'd use
it only once a week, you know."
"Oh, what a funny verse this is," said Marjorie, as she read:
"I'm nothing to eat, I'm nothing to wear; You can only use me high up
in the air."
"I know what it is," said Stella, with her funny little air of
decision; "it's a kite! You could only use that high in the air, you
know; and it's that Japanese sort that squeezes all up to nothing and
then spreads out when you open it."
"I believe it is," said Midge, "only you know it said it was made of
metal. But just listen to this next verse!
"I am not pretty, I am not gay, But you'll enjoy me every day."
The boxes were getting very small now, and Marjorie felt sure that the
one she held in her hand must be the last one, unless, indeed, the gift
was a cherry stone. The verse read:
"At last, Dear Mopsy, you've come to me! Behold your birthday gift!
only a--"
As Marjorie read the last words she opened the box, and when she saw
the contents she finished the rhyme herself by exclaiming, "key!"