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drew near confidingly, and looked down at the wide-spread book before her. She gave a start, and laughed out with surprise and delight; for there was a lovely picture of her own little home, and her own little self on the door-step, all so delicate, and beautiful, and true, it seemed as if done by magic.

      ‘Oh, how pretty! There is Rover, and Kitty and the robins, and me! How could you ever do it, ma’am?’ said Marjorie, with a wondering glance at the long paint-brush, which had wrought what seemed a miracle to her childish eyes.

      ‘I’ll show you presently; but tell me, first, if it looks quite right and natural to you. Children sometimes spy out faults that no one else can see,’ answered the lady, evidently pleased with the artless praise her work received.

      ‘It looks just like our house, only more beautiful. Perhaps that is because I know how shabby it really is. That moss looks lovely on the shingles, but the roof leaks. The porch is broken, only the roses hide the place; and my gown is all faded, though it once was as bright as you have made it. I wish the house and everything would stay pretty forever, as they will in the picture.’

      While Marjorie spoke, the lady had been adding more color to the sketch, and when she looked up, something warmer and brighter than sunshine shone in her face, as she said, so cheerily, it was like a bird’s song to hear her, —

      ‘It can’t be summer always, dear, but we can make fair weather for ourselves if we try. The moss, the roses, and soft shadows show the little house and the little girl at their best, and that is what we all should do; for it is amazing how lovely common things become, if one only knows how to look at them.’

      ‘I wish I did,’ said Marjorie, half to herself, remembering how often she was discontented, and how hard it was to get on, sometimes.

      ‘So do I,’ said the lady, in her happy voice. ‘Just believe that there is a sunny side to everything, and try to find it, and you will be surprised to see how bright the world will seem, and how cheerful you will be able to keep your little self.’

      ‘I guess granny has found that out, for she never frets. I do, but I’m going to stop it, because I’m twelve today, and that is too old for such things,’ said Marjorie, recollecting the good resolutions she had made that morning when she woke.

      ‘I am twice twelve, and not entirely cured yet; but I try, and don’t mean to wear blue spectacles if I can help it,’ answered the lady, laughing so blithely that Marjorie was sure she would not have to try much longer. ‘Birthdays were made for presents, and I should like to give you one. Would it please you to have this little picture?’ she added, lifting it out of the book.

      ‘Truly my own? Oh, yes, indeed!’ cried Marjorie, coloring with pleasure, for she had never owned so beautiful a thing before.

      ‘Then you shall have it, dear. Hang it where you can see it often, and when you look, remember that it is the sunny side of home, and help to keep it so.’

      Marjorie had nothing but a kiss to offer by way of thanks, as the lovely sketch was put into her hand; but the giver seemed quite satisfied, for it was a very grateful little kiss. Then the child took up her basket and went away, not dancing and singing now, but slowly and silently; for this gift made her thoughtful as well as glad. As she climbed the wall, she looked back to nod good-by to the pretty lady; but the meadow was empty, and all she saw was the grass blowing in the wind.

      ‘Now, deary, run out and play, for birthdays come but once a year, and we must make them as merry as we can,’ said granny, as she settled herself for her afternoon nap, when the Saturday cleaning was all done, and the little house as neat as wax.

      So Marjorie put on a white apron in honor of the occasion, and, taking Kitty in her arms, went out to enjoy herself. Three swings on the gate seemed to be a good way of beginning the festivities; but she only got two, for when the gate creaked back the second time, it stayed shut, and Marjorie hung over the pickets, arrested by the sound of music.

      ‘It’s soldiers,’ she said, as the fife and drum drew nearer, and flags were seen waving over the barberry-bushes at the corner.

      ‘No; it’s a picnic,’ she added in a moment; for she saw hats with wreaths about them bobbing up and down, as a gaily-trimmed hay-cart full of children came rumbling down the lane.

      ‘What a nice time they are going to have!’ thought Marjorie, sadly contrasting that merry-making with the quiet party she was having all by herself.

      Suddenly her face shone, and Kitty was waved over her head like a banner, as she flew out of the gate, crying, rapturously, —

      ‘It’s Billy! and I know he’s come for me!’

      It certainly WAS Billy, proudly driving the old horse, and beaming at his little friend from the bower of flags and chestnut-boughs, where he sat in state, with a crown of daisies on his sailor-hat and a spray of blooming sweetbrier in his hand. Waving his rustic sceptre, he led off the shout of ‘Happy birthday, Marjorie!’ which was set up as the wagon stopped at the gate, and the green boughs suddenly blossomed with familiar faces, all smiling on the little damsel, who stood in the lane quite overpowered with delight.

      ‘It’s a s’prise[10] party!’ cried one small lad, tumbling out behind.

      ‘We are going up the mountain to have fun!’ added a chorus of voices, as a dozen hands beckoned wildly.

      ‘We got it up on purpose for you, so tie your hat and come away,’ said a pretty girl, leaning down to kiss Marjorie, who had dropped Kitty, and stood ready for any splendid enterprise.

      A word to granny, and away went the happy child, sitting up beside Billy, under the flags that waved over a happier load than any royal chariot ever bore.

      It would be vain to try and tell all the plays and pleasures of happy children on a Saturday afternoon, but we may briefly say that Marjorie found a mossy stone all ready for her throne, and Billy crowned her with a garland like his own. That a fine banquet was spread, and eaten with a relish many a Lord Mayor’s[11] feast has lacked. Then how the whole court danced and played together afterward! The lords climbed trees and turned somersaults, the ladies gathered flowers and told secrets under the sweetfern-bushes, the queen lost her shoe jumping over the waterfall, and the king paddled into the pool below and rescued it. A happy little kingdom, full of summer sunshine, innocent delights, and loyal hearts; for love ruled, and the only war that disturbed the peaceful land was waged by the mosquitoes as night came on.

      Marjorie stood on her throne watching the sunset while her maids of honor packed up the remains of the banquet, and her knights prepared the chariot. All the sky was gold and purple, all the world bathed in a soft, red light, and the little girl was very happy as she looked down at the subjects who had served her so faithfully that day.

      ‘Have you had a good time, Marjy?’ asked King William; who stood below, with his royal nose on a level with her majesty’s two dusty little shoes.

      ‘Oh, Billy, it has been just splendid! But I don’t see why you should all be so kind to me,’ answered Marjorie, with such a look of innocent wonder, that Billy laughed to see it.

      ‘Because you are so sweet and good, we can’t help loving you, – that’s why,’ he said, as if this simple fact was reason enough.

      ‘I’m going to be the best girl that ever was, and love everybody in the world,’ cried the child, stretching out her arms as if ready, in the fullness of her happy heart, to embrace all creation.

      ‘Don’t turn into an angel and fly away just yet, but come home, or granny will never lend you to us any more.’

      With that, Billy jumped her down, and away they ran, to ride gaily back through the twilight, singing like a flock of nightingales.

      As she went to bed that night, Marjorie looked at the red bank, the pretty picture, and the daisy crown, saying to herself,

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