baked currant bread, miss," I said, "and Madam Winthrop's
gardener gave me a spotted kitten, and I have a string of blue beads
and the day to myself. I'm thinking I'll go up to The Cedars and Mrs.
Williams will let me read some of the books from the library for the
afternoon."

"Why, that's where I live--The Cedars!" she says, surprised. "Madam
Winthrop is my aunt, and Mrs. Williams dresses me! Come into the
phaeton and I'll drive you there!"

She had forgot the errand she came on, bless her, with the excitement,
and if mother hadn't come out to inquire, there'd have been a great
to-do. There was a maid all over blotches at The Cedars, and a doctor
and nurse was wanted, and mother was ready very quick, as she always
was. So I got into the phaeton and Miss Lisbet drove me to The Cedars,
and I had a birthday dinner with her: roast fowl and mashed potatoes
and new peas and a frozen pudding with figs and almonds in it. I can
see her now, at the head of the table, with me and Mrs. Williams on
either side, and the macaw, all indigo and orange color and scarlet, on
his perch opposite! She had on a worked muslin frock with lace-trimmed
pantalets, blue silk stockings, and black French kid ankle-ties. Her
hair, a light golden brown, was all in curls, and a blue velvet snood
kept it back: the young girls today wear ribbons about their heads
something like it. Her eyes were a dark, bright blue, and her cheeks,
like most American children's, a sort of clear pale, that flushed quick
with her feelings. She was tall and slim and looked quite three years
older than me, that has always been stocky-like and apple-cheeked, even
at sixty-four!

She had been away at a school for two years, having lost her father and
mother, and old Madam Winthrop had adopted her, in a sort of way, being
her great-aunt, and was to leave her all her money.

While we were eating, old Dr. Stanchon pops in, leading a little
red-haired boy, very plain and clever-looking, by the hand.

"Can this youngster have a bite with you, Mrs. Williams?" says he,
looking worried like. "That precious girl of yours has the fever, and
I'll be busy some time. I promised him the fish pond for a treat, for
it's his birthday, to-day, and now perhaps Miss Elizabeth will take him
there--hello, little Rhoda! How fine we are!"

The little lad pulls out a great pocket-knife and lays it on the table.

"I am Dick Stanchon, and I'm ten years old to-day!" says he very quic