read to any longer. At last she went
away "to speak to mamma," she said.

Candace had forgotten all about this birthday discussion before Saturday
morning dawned dimly out of the still persistent fog. All the time she
was dressing, her eyes were on "The Golden Legend" which lay open on the
bureau beside her; and her thoughts were so much occupied with Prince
Henry and poor pretty Elsie, for whom she felt so very sorry, that she
had none to spare for the comparatively unimportant fact that she,
little Candace Arden, had that day turned the corner of her seventeenth
year.

It was all the more a delightful surprise, therefore, when she went down
to breakfast and found a pile of dainty, white, ribbon-tied parcels on
her plate, a glass of beautiful roses beside it, and was met with a
special kiss from Cousin Kate, and a chorus of "Many happy returns" from
the rest of the family.

The little softnesses and prettinesses of life, the gifts and surprises,
the sweet words, the being made much of on special occasions, were quite
unknown to the old farm-house in North Tolland. Aunt Myra was a stanch
Presbyterian. She disapproved on principle of Christmas day, as
belonging to popery and old superstition. She didn't see that one day
was any better than any other day. It was just an accident on what day
of the year you were born, and it was no use to make a fuss about it,
she said. There were plenty of people in the world before you came, and
there would have been plenty if you had never come at all. Such was Aunt
Myra's _dictum_.

With these views, it may be supposed that Candace's idea of an
anniversary was not a very lively one. For a moment she scarcely took in
the meaning of what she saw, but stood regarding the plate-ful of
parcels with a bewildered look on her face.

"It's your birthday, you know," exclaimed little Marian. "Many happy
returns! Don't you recollect that it's your birthday? We shouldn't have
found it out, though, if it hadn't been for my book."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Mrs. Gray, smiling at her. "I had the
date of Cannie's birthday put down securely somewhere, and I've been
keeping a special gift for it. It's something that I brought you from
Geneva, Cannie; but as it had waited so long before getting to you, I
thought it might as well wait a little longer and come on your
anniversary."

"Oh, thank you," said Candace, glancing shyly at the parcels.

"Please do begin to open them!" urged Maria