Fisher sat down on the side of the bed, and drew her daughter
towards her.

"Don't cry so, Marjorie," she repeated. "I know you didn't mean to do
anything out of the way. Tell me how you came to ask all these people
here."

Between her sobs, Marjorie told her mother the whole story; and Mrs.
Fisher rejoiced that the kindly darkness hid her smile, as she listened
to her little daughter's incoherent explanation of the party and its
cause.

"And I meant it should all be so nice," Marjorie ended, with a fresh
burst of tears; "and it was just dreadful. I forgot the bread, and the
candles wouldn't burn, and nobody knew Dr. Brownlee, and everything was
horrid. Scold me, if you want to; but I truly meant to give you a good
time, only it all went wrong."

"Marjorie, dear," her mother said, when she could steady her voice
enough to speak; "I know you meant to make me have a happy birthday, and
I am grateful to my little girl for taking so much pains for me. Another
time we will talk it over together, and plan the best thing to do,
instead of your trying to surprise me. And now forget all about the
worry of it, and only remember that you've done what you could to make
the day pleasant for me." And she bent over for a goodnight kiss, before
she returned to the kitchen for a long hour of dish-washing and putting
the room to rights.

CHAPTER VII.

JANEY'S PROPHECY.

"Git up in de mawnin' singin', an' de cat cotch you befo' night," Janey
had said oracularly, when Allie ran out into the kitchen, that morning
before breakfast, with the refrain of one of Charlie's songs upon her
lips.

"What nonsense, Janey!" said Allie, laughing at the strange, old-time
saying. "I don't believe the cat'll 'cotch' me any more for singing, and
it's ever so much more fun than 'tis to cry."

In fact, there was no particular reason that Allie should not sing, for
life looked very attractive to her that morning. The bright June
sunshine was lying warm over the town, and giving back a dazzling lustre
from the snow-capped mountains which rose up from the midst of the
summer landscape; lessons were over for the present, and, best of all,
Mr. and Mrs. Burnam were to go out to camp that day, to make final
arrangements for the long-talked-of week, when the Everetts, Burnams,
and Fishers were to pitch their tents beside the engineering camp, in
the Bitter Root Mountains, and enjoy a week of roughing it in the
wilderness. Soon after breakfast th