er instead, and
with the arm of her chair for a desk, scribbled down with a pencil a
rough draft of all she wanted to say to this Cousin Kate, who had been
the good fairy of her childhood. Many erasures and changes were
necessary, and it was nearly an hour later when she read it all over,
highly pleased with her own production. She wondered how it would affect
Jack, and glanced over at him, so sure of its excellence that she was
tempted to read it aloud. But Jack, having read himself drowsy, had gone
to sleep in his chair, and she knew that even if she should waken him by
clashing the tongs or upsetting the rocker, he would not be in a mood to
appreciate her epistle as it deserved.

So she sat jabbing the paper with her pencil till it had a wide border
of dots and dashes, while she pictured to herself the probable effect of
the letter on her Cousin Kate. Hope sprang up again as buoyant as if it
had not been crushed to earth a score of times in the last few months,
and she thought exultingly, "Now _this_ will surely bring a
satisfactory reply!"

A far-away jingle of sleigh-bells sounded presently, coming nearer and
nearer down the snowy road, then stopped in front of the house. Mr.
Downs was bringing the birthday banqueters home in his sleigh, according
to promise.

Mary sprang up to open the door. At the first faint sound of the bells
she had folded the sheet of paper into a tiny square, and tucked it into
her belt. She had a feeling that Jack was wrong about her writing to
Cousin Kate, and that her mother would not disapprove as strongly as he
seemed to think she would, if the matter could be put properly before
her. But she intended to take no risks. There would be time enough to
confess what she had done when the answer came, promising her the
coveted position.

Mrs. Ware and Norman came in glowing from their sleigh-ride.

"You certainly must have had a good time," exclaimed Mary, noticing the
unusual animation of her mother's face. "You ought to go to a birthday
dinner every night if it can shake you up and make you look as young and
bright-eyed as you do now."

"Oh, it isn't that," laughed Mrs. Ware, as Jack took her heavy coat from
her and Mary her furs. "We did have a beautiful time, but it is _this_
which has gone to my head."

She took a letter from the muff which Mary had just laid on a chair, and
as soon as she could slip off her gloves, began to unfold it without
waiting to lay aside her hat.

"It