ab would win that she cared nothing
about her own success, practising little and seldom hitting any thing
when she tried.

CHAPTER XX

BEN'S BIRTHDAY

A superb display of flags flapped gayly in the breeze on the September
morning when Ben proudly entered his teens. An irruption of bunting
seemed to have broken out all over the old house, for banners of every
shape and size, color and design, flew from chimney-top to gable, porch
and gate-way, making the quiet place look as lively as a circus tent,
which was just what Ben most desired and delighted in.

The boys had been up very early to prepare the show, and when it was
ready enjoyed it hugely, for the fresh wind made the pennons cut strange
capers. The winged lion of Venice looked as if trying to fly away home;
the Chinese dragon appeared to brandish his forked tail as he clawed at
the Burmese peacock; the double-headed eagle of Russia pecked at the
Turkish crescent with one beak, while the other seemed to be screaming
to the English royal beast, "Come on and lend a paw." In the hurry of
hoisting the Siamese elephant got turned upside down, and now danced
gayly on his head, with the stars and stripes waving proudly over him. A
green flag with a yellow harp and sprig of shamrock hung in sight of the
kitchen window, and Katy, the cook, got breakfast to the tune of "St.
Patrick's day in the morning." Sancho's kennel was half hidden under a
rustling paper imitation of the gorgeous Spanish banner, and the scarlet
sun-and-moon flag of Arabia snapped and flaunted from the pole over the
coach-house, as a delicate compliment to Lita, Arabian horses being
considered the finest in the world.

The little girls came out to see, and declared it was the loveliest
sight they ever beheld, while Thorny played "Hail Columbia" on his fife,
and Ben, mounting the gate-post, crowed long and loud like a happy
cockerel who had just reached his majority. He had been surprised and
delighted with the gifts he found in his room on awaking and guessed why
Miss Celia and Thorny gave him such pretty things, for among them was a
match-box made like a mouse-trap. The doggy buttons and the horsey whip
were treasures, indeed, for Miss Celia had not given them when they
first planned to do so, because Sancho's return seemed to be joy and
reward enough for that occasion. But he did not forget to thank Mrs.
Moss for the cake she sent him, nor the girls for the red mittens which
they had secretly a