r of rapt enjoyment, but the next moment
she frowned.

"Livy," she said, severely, "I am extremely angry! how dare you be
guilty of such extravagance, even if it be my birthday! Don't I know
what these exquisite flowers must have cost!" then Olivia's face fell a
little.

"Oh, Aunt Madge, I had no idea it was your birthday, and I have brought
you nothing, nothing at all. Do let me explain," and then Mrs. Broderick
listened with much interest to Olivia's recital.

"The flowers are even sweeter than I thought them," she said, presently,
and her face flushed a little. "I thought the day would be so blank, and
that I should just lie here missing Fergus. He always made such a fuss
on my birthdays; they were red-letter days to him, and now this friendly
message has come to me. Give me my writing-case, Livy. I must scrawl a
few lines to your old gentleman," and she refused to dictate the note to
Olivia.

"MY DEAR SIR," she wrote, "do you know what you have done? You have
given a poor invalid a very happy day. Your beautiful flowers have come
to me like a lovely message of sympathy and goodwill from an unknown
friend.

"If you were ever sad and lonely, if life has not always been easy to
you, it will sweeten your solitary hours to know that you have given
enjoyment to a crippled sufferer.

"To-day is my birthday, the forty-sixth milestone on my life's journey.
During a long, wakeful night of pain I have been counting up past
blessings, and the new day seemed a blank to me, and then your flowers
came, and I thanked God and took courage.

"Dear sir, I remain,
"Yours gratefully,
"MARGARET BRODERICK (widow)."

That was one of Aunt Madge's fads, one of her harmless little
peculiarities, to sign herself in that fashion. "There is so much in the
word widow," she would say; "if it were not for seeming odd or making
people smile, I would always sign myself 'Fergus's widow,' instead of my
proper name," but nothing could induce her to send even a note without
that curious signature.

Olivia could not quite get over her grievance of forgetting Aunt Madge's
birthday.

"It was so horrid of me," she said, with a long face, "but, anyhow, I
will come to tea."

"No, dear, not to-day," returned Mrs. Broderick, quietly. "To-morrow Deb
and I will be delighted to welcome you. And Deb shall bake some
shortbread and scones. Marcus might come too, it is long since I saw
him."

"But why not to-day, dear Aunt Madg