felt it was wiser to give Miss
Norton plenty of time to go to bed and fall asleep. She often sat up
late in the study reading, and they did not care to risk a visit from
her. A bracket clock on the stairs sounded the quarters, and Marjorie,
as the lightest sleeper, undertook to keep awake and listen to its
chimes. It was rather difficult not to doze when the room was dark and
her companions were breathing quietly and regularly in the other beds.
The time between the quarters seemed interminable. At eleven o'clock she
heard Miss Norton walk along the corridor and go into her bedroom. After
that no other sound disturbed the establishment, and Marjorie repeated
poetry and even dates and French verbs to keep herself awake.

At last the clock chimed its full range and struck twelve times. She sat
up and felt for the matches.

Betty and Sylvia, who had gone to sleep prepared, woke with the light,
but it was a more difficult matter to rouse Irene. She turned over in
bed and grunted, and they were obliged to haul her into a sitting
position before she would open her eyes.

"What's the matter? Zepps?" she asked drowsily.

"No, no; it's your birthday party. Look!" beamed the others.

On a chair by her bedside stood the cake, resplendent with its sixteen
little lighted candles, and also the tin of condensed milk. Irene
blinked at them in amazement.

"Jubilate! What a frolicsome joke!" she exclaimed. "I say, this is
awfully decent of you!"

"We told you you'd wake up in better spirits, old sport!" purred
Marjorie. "I flatter myself those candles look rather pretty. You can
tell your fortune by blowing them out."

"It's a shame to touch them," objected Irene.

"But we want some cake," announced Betty and Sylvia.

"Go on, give a good puff!" prompted Marjorie. "Then we can count how
many you've blown out. Five! This year, next year, some time, never!
This year! Goody! You'll have to be quick about it. It's almost time to
be putting up the banns. Now again. Tinker, tailor, soldier! Lucky you!
My plum stones generally give me beggar-man or thief. Silk, satin,
muslin, rags; silk, satin! You've got all the luck to-night. Coach,
carriage! You're not blowing fair, Renie! You did that on purpose so
that it shouldn't come wheelbarrow! Only one candle left--let's leave it
lighted while we cut the rest."

Everybody agreed that the cake was delicious. They felt they had never
tasted a better in their lives, although it was a specim