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CHAPTER XIII
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!"

CHAPTER XIV
"BREEZY INN"

Sure enough, the tiny box contained a small key tied with a bit of blue ribbon. Marjorie looked at it in bewilderment.

"It must unlock something!" cried Molly.

"Molly Moss," exclaimed Uncle Steve, "you have a wonderfully clever head for your years! How did you ever guess that a key would unlock something? You must have seen keys before!"

"But she never saw this one," cried Midge. "Oh, Uncle Steve, what is it for?"

"You've been in suspense quite long enough, and now we'll try to find a lock for that key to fit. Grandma and I will go first, and if you three young ladies will follow us, we will go and hunt for a keyhole."

Full of delightful anticipation, the three girls followed their older leaders. Marjorie was in the middle, her arms twined about Molly and Stella on either side, and their arms around her. Molly and Midge wanted to skip, but Stella never skipped, so the result was a somewhat joggly gait as they went down the path to the orchard.

The south meadow was a wide expanse of humpy grass-land, with only a few trees here and there.

Especially fine trees were two that were usually called the twin maples. These two very old trees grew side by side, their great trunks not more than four feet apart and their branches so intermingled that they were practically one tree in two parts. The delightful shade of this double tree afforded a favorite playground for the children, and they had missed it during the past week when they were forbidden to go into the meadow.

As they neared the meadow, Marjorie grew more and more amazed. There was nothing unusual in sight: no swing, no merry-go-round, and certainly nothing that a key could unlock. They reached the twin maples, and then Uncle Steve said: "If you'll all step around to the other side of this tree I think we may discover that missing keyhole."

The girls scampered around, and, looking up into the tree, they saw such an astonishing sight that the three simply sat down on the ground and stared at it. It was nothing more nor less than a house, a real little house high above the ground and nestled into the branches of the trees, just as a bird's nest might be.

The house, which was big enough for the girls to have gone into if they could have reached it, had a front door and a window on either side. There was a veranda on which stood three small rustic benches, quite strong enough to have held the three girls had they had wings to fly up there. The veranda had a railing around it, above which hung two hanging-baskets filled with bright flowers.

The door was shut and a keyhole could be distinctly seen.

"There's the keyhole, Mopsy, which I have reason to think will fit your key," said Uncle Steve.

"But I can't reach up to it," said Marjorie, looking very puzzled.

"What's the house for? Is it for birds?"

"Yes, for three birds that I know of, who wear gingham dresses and hair ribbons."

"But we don't wear wings," interrupted Marjorie. "Oh, Uncle Steve, do tell me what that house is for!"

"It's for you, chickabiddy, and if you'd like to go up there I'll show you a way."

Uncle Steve stepped over to the double trunk, and reaching up pulled down something, which proved to be a weight hung on the end of a long cord. The cord reached up to the veranda of the little house.

"Here," said Uncle Steve, as he put the weight into Marjorie's hand, "this is perhaps as useful a birthday gift as the key I gave you. Pull hard, and see what happens."

Marjorie pulled hard, and as she pulled, a rope ladder came tumbling down from the edge of the little porch. It was a queer-looking ladder, the sides being of rope and the rounds of wood, while the top seemed to be securely fastened to the veranda floor.

"There you are," said Uncle Steve; "there's your birthday gift, and all you have to do is to skip up there, unlock the door, and take possession."

But instead of doing this, Marjorie, with a squeal of delight, threw her arms around Uncle Steve's neck.

"You dear, old, blessed uncle!" she cried. "I understand it all now; but truly I couldn't think how we were ever going to get up there. It's a lovely surprise, the best I ever had! You are SO good to me, and Grandma, too!"

Having nearly squeezed the breath out of Uncle Steve, Marjorie left him, and flying over to Grandma, treated her to a similar demonstration. And then, with her precious key tightly clasped in her hand, she started to climb the rather wabbly ladder. Impetuous Molly was crazy to follow, but Uncle Steve declared that it was the law of the house that there must never be more than one on the ladder at a time.

Though Marjorie became accustomed to it afterward, it was not an easy matter to climb the rope ladder for the first time; but under Uncle Steve's direction she began to learn the trick of it, and safely reached the top. Agile Molly scrambled up as if she had been used to rope ladders all her life; but to timid Stella the climbing seemed an impossible feat. But Uncle Steve held the ladder firmly at the bottom, and Marjorie encouraged her from the top, while Molly threw herself flat on the porch and reached down a helping hand.

At last the three girls were safely on the little veranda, and the sensation was as delightful as it was strange. To sit on the little benches, high above the ground, and look out straight across the meadow; and then, turning to either side, to see the great limbs and branches of the old maple-trees, was indeed a fairy-tale experience.

Over the door swung a quaint little old-fashioned signboard, on which in gilt letters were the words "Breezy Inn."

With bewildering anticipations of further delight, Marjorie took her little key and unlocked the door.

Grandma and Uncle Steve, watching from below, heard shouts of joy as the girls disappeared through the doorway.

But in a moment they reappeared at the windows, and their beaming faces told the tale of their happiness.

"Good-by," called Uncle Steve, "the presentation is over and 'Breezy Inn' is yours. I've fastened the ladder firmly, so you can go up and down as you choose. The furnishings are your birthday present from Grandma, but we're going back now to a house that we can get into; and you children had better show up there about dinner-time. Meanwhile, have all the fun you can."

Grandma and Uncle Steve went away, leaving the children to explore and make acquaintance of "Breezy Inn."

It was a fairy house, indeed; and yet, though tiny, everything seemed to be just large enough.

The interior of the house was one large room; and a smaller room, like an ell, at the back. The large room contained the front door and two front windows, also a window at each end. The smaller room had no outer exit, but three windows gave ample light and air.

The front room, or living-room, as Marjorie termed it, was pleasantly furnished. On the floor was a rug of grass-matting and the furniture was of light wicker. The sofa, chairs, and tables were not of a size for grown people, but were just right for twelve-year-old little girls. At one end were a few built-in bookshelves; at the other a wardrobe or cupboard, most convenient to keep things in.

Grandma's handiwork was shown in some dear little sofa-pillows and chair-cushions, in dainty, draped curtains and table covers.

The room at the back, Marjorie declared was a workroom. In the middle was a large table, just splendid to work at when making paper-dolls' houses or anything like that; and round the room were shelves and cupboards to hold materials.

"It just takes my breath away!" said Marjorie, as she sank down on the settee in the living-room; "I never saw anything like it! Can't we have just the best fun here all summer!"

"I should say we could!" declared Molly. "It seems almost as if it must be our birthdays too. We'll have just as much fun here as you will, Midge."

"Why, I couldn't have any fun at all without you two; at least, it would be very lonesome fun."

"I don't see how they ever built it," said Molly, who, by way of finding out, was hanging out of a window as far as she could and investigating the building.

"I know," said the wise Stella; "I read about one once; they nail the beams and things to the trunks of the trees and then they nail boards across, and then they build the house. But the one I read about wasn't as nice as this."

"I don't think there could be one as nice as this," declared Marjorie; "and we can fix it up a lot yet, you know. I shall bring some things down from my room, some of my favorite books for the book-shelves, and things like that."

"Do you suppose it will rain in, ever?" asked the practical Stella.

"No, of course not," said Molly, who was still examining the carpenter work. "See, these windows slide shut sideways, and then if you shut the door tight the rain couldn't get in, unless the roof leaks."

"Of course it doesn't!" declared Midget; "Uncle Steve wouldn't build me a house with a leaky roof. Did you ever see such cunning window curtains! Of course we don't need blinds, for the tree keeps the sun out. It does seem so queer to look out of the window and see only a tree."

"Look out of the front door," said Molly, "and you won't see a tree then. You'll just see grass and sky and cows. But what's this thing at the back, Mopsy? It looks like a pair of well-buckets."

"I don't know. What can it be?" said Mopsy, running to look.

There was a queer contraption that seemed to be something like a windlass and something like a dumbwaiter. It was at the very end of the veranda around the corner of the house.

"I know," said Stella quietly; "it's a kind of an elevator thing to pull up things when you want to."

"Why, so it is!" cried Marjorie. "This is the way it works." And releasing a big wooden button, she let the whole affair slide to the ground, and, then, grasping the handle of a crank, she began to draw it up again.

"Well, if that isn't great!" cried Molly. "We can boost up all sorts of things!"

"Here's something to boost up now," said Marjorie, who had spied Jane coming across the fields, with what was undoubtedly a tray of refreshment.

And sure enough, Grandma had sent some ginger-snaps and lemonade to furnish the first feast at "Breezy Inn."

"Your grandma wouldn't send much," explained Jane, "for she says you must all come back to the house at one o'clock for the birthday dinner, and it's well after eleven now. She sent your clock, Miss Midget, so you'll know when to come."

Apparently Jane knew more about the ways and means of "Breezy Inn" than the children did; for she directed them explicitly how to let down the dumbwaiter, and, then, after having carefully placed on it the tray of good things and the clock, she advised them about drawing it up. It worked almost like a well-bucket and was quite easy to manage. The tray reached the top in safety, and, in great glee, the girls arranged the little feast on the table in the living-room, and sat down to play tea-party.

"Isn't this lovely!" exclaimed Molly, as she took her seventh ginger-snap from the plate. "I don't see how your grandma knew that we were beginning to get hungry."

"Grandma always seems to know everything that's nice," said Marjorie. "Some day, girls, let's come out here and spend the whole day. We'll bring a lot of lunch, you know, and it will be just as if we lived here."

"Goody!" said Molly. "That will be heaps of fun. We'll all bring things; I know Mother will give me a pie."

"I'll like it," said Stella, with an expression of great satisfaction; "because up here you girls can't romp around so and run as you do down on the ground. When we come for a whole day let's bring a book of fairy stories and take turns reading aloud."

"All right," said Midge; "let's have it for a sort of a club, and meet here one day every week."

"Clubs ought to do something," observed Molly. "Charity, you know, or something like that."

"All right," said Midge; "let's make things and then sell them and get some money for the Dunns."

"What could we do?" asked Molly. "We couldn't have another bazaar, and, besides, I think the Dunns have enough money for the present."

"Don't let's work," said Stella, who was not very enterprising; "at least, not when we're up here. Let's just read or play paper dolls. If you want to work and make things, do them at home."

"I feel that way, too," said Midget; "let's just keep this for a playhouse. But maybe it isn't right; maybe we ought to do things for charity."

"Ask your grandma," said Molly; "she'll know what's right. But I expect they gave you this house to have fun in."

"I think they did, too," said Marjorie; "and, anyway, Molly, we could do both. We had lots of fun getting ready for the bazaar, and we did the charity besides."

"Well, let's read part of the time, anyway," said Stella; "I do love to read or to be read to."

"We will," agreed Marjorie, amiably, and Molly agreed, too.