something which I did not catch, and then Naomi cried, "Well, I'll go and tell her."

She came and shouted up the stairs, "We're all coming; I've got to go now, so good-bye."

I watched them drive off, and said to myself "The mystery is solved. The trapèze !”

CHAPTER IX.

KEEPING A BIRTHDAY.

"Alas, the happy day! the foolish day! Alas, the sweet time, too soon passed away !"

Of exile from Hope's happy realm grew less,
And thoughts of childish peace, he knew not whence,
Thronged round his heart with many an old caress."

SOP

Lowell

OPHIA, the children from the other house are
coming to tea.

"What, that long-legged boy?"

"Why, he's long generally. I don't see anything out of proportion in his legs. What can we have for tea? They have such lots of things for tea down there, I don't know what they'll think of ours."

This assured us a good tea. I could not confess to her that the tutor was coming, for I knew she actively detested him, but I smuggled an extra plate and cup and saucer on the table when it was time for them to come, and I left it for her to suppose that his coming was unpremeditated, and that he had been invited after he came in, as was no more than civil. Notwithstanding her disgust and anger at his presence and at my selfish conduct of the morning, she did not manage to depress us very much. We had a very merry little tea, [99] 742418

with Maidy and Baby both at table, and Ned enough at home to eat as much as he wanted. After tea we had the pleasure of building a fresh fire in the Franklin and of trying the new fender.

"Four feet on a fender,'" said Ned, leaning back in a low chair and putting a pair of very dusty shoes upon it.

"What's the objection to hind feet?" said Naomi, who was sitting on the rug and holding Rex, and she put his hind paws up beside the dusty shoes.

"What's the use of always trying to be so deadly clever?" snarled Ned, giving the dog a push with his foot.

"It's you who were trying," said Naomi, enfolding the dog in a motherly embrace.

"Let dogs delight," said the tutor.

birthday by an absence of rows to-night."

"Celebrate my

"Talking of birthdays; where's the candlestick? Maidy, go and fetch it. I left it on the table in the hall.

Maidy brought it. "I tried to clean it," I said, "but it hasn't a great luster.”

"It puts my eyes out," said the tutor, shading them.

"That horrid break," I said, "and the patching up. I wish I had a ribbon that I could tie around it. Here's one on my fan. I'll have to spare you that."

There was a bit of lilac ribbon by which my fan hung from my belt, so I loosened it and tied it round the candlestick in a pretty knot, and hid the defacing sodering, and all that; then we set it on the mantelpiece and lavished a great deal of admiration on it. The children were rolling about on the rug with Rex.

Ned had withdrawn his dusty shoes to the other side of the room, and was looking over some pictures at the lamp. Mr. Macnally put more wood on the fire, and opened the doors and windows, for it was growing warm. Naomi started up from the rug.

"Let's play cartoons, or consequences, or something, won't you? Mr. Macnally likes games; I assure you that he does."

"And his taste must be consulted on at least one day in the year."

"Well, but you know you like it; you've often said you did. We only want some paper and some pencils; please, dear hostess, and we'll tell you how."

We had altogether a very jolly evening; Naomi and Ned were both clever with their pencils, and as to the tutor, I abandoned the trapeze theory and concluded he was a member of the Royal Academy, collecting in disguise studies for the next year's exhibition. I have those cartoons yet, yellowed, dusty. I do not laugh when I look at them now, alas!

The "gale" had expended itself; we could not laugh so many hours consecutively. The children were sleepy, and Naomi and I carried them off to Sophia to be put to bed. Nothing would have induced Sophia to come into the room, I am sure. When we came back we found Ned had settled himself into a book, and the tutor was standing with his hand on the mantel-piece gazing into the fire. I sat down in a low chair and Naomi knelt down on the rug and put her pretty yellow head against my shoulder.

"What a nice day we've had! When does your birthday come?"

I like holidays.

"Oh, Naomi, don't ask me. I don't want to remember my birthday. I don't keep it any more."

I tried to speak lightly, but a quick expression of pain contracted my face. It was three years since I had kept my birthday with anything but tears and bitter recollections. All the joy and merriment of this day seemed frightful to me at that reminiscence. Had I grown childish; had I lost all sense of my bereave ment in this sudden lightening of heart? No wonder Sophia despised me and avoided me; I hardly knew myself. I could scarcely keep back my tears; I trembled and was pale. I had an impulse to go into the dark room where the children slept and take them in my arms, and cry over them and ask them to forgive me for having forgotten for so many careless hours.

Naomi went on prattling; Mr. Macnally walked over to where Ned sat at his book, and talked with him about it. Naomi's questions were torture-Where were you your last birthday, where were you before? Did you use to get many presents? Was that little turquoise ring you always wear one of your birthday presents? It was the prettiest little ring. How many years since the birthday that you got it? There were two stones that were turning just a little green; it must be a good while that you have had it on. How long do you think?

quoise turns green?

What does it mean when a turDoes it mean you have forgotten about the person that gave it to you, or that they have forgotten about you?

"Naomi," said the tutor, a little quickly, "Ned's found a picture of that basket-fish that washed up on the beach the other day. Come and look at it."