appened. About my
mistake, you know, thinking Mother was talking in earnest."

"Oh, don't tell 'em all that, you'll _never_ get it done. But I suppose
they are curious to know. Well, cut it short."

"'You see, dear Mr. and Mrs. Geary Both, I am not a findling, as I
supposed.'"

"That's not findling, Midget,--you mean foundling."

"I don't think so. And, anyway, they mean just the same,--I'm going to
leave it.

"'I find I have quite a large family, with a nice father and
mother, some sisters and a brother. You saw my father. Also, I have
lovely cousins and four grand-parents and an uncle. So you see I am
well supplied with this world's goods. So now, good-by, dear Mr.
and Mrs. Geary Both, and with further thanks and obliges, I am,

"'Your friend,
"'MARJORIE MAYNARD.

"'P.S. The Jessica Brown was a made-up name.'

"Do you think that's all right, King?"

"Yep, it's fine! Seal her up, and write the address and leave it on the
hall table, and come on."

And so the "bread-and-butter" letter went to Mr. and Mrs. Geary both,
and was kept and treasured by them as one of their choicest possessions.

"I knew she was a little lady by the way she pretended not to notice our
poor things," said old Zeb.

"I knew by her petticoats," said his wife.

* * * * *

And so the episode of Marjorie's runaway passed into history. Mrs.
Maynard, at first, wanted to give up her part in the play of "The
Stepmother," but she was urged by all to retain it, and so she did. As
Mr. Maynard said, it was the merest coincidence that Marjorie overheard
the words without knowing why they were spoken, and there was no
possibility of such a thing ever happening again. So Mrs. Maynard kept
her part in the pretty little comedy, but she never repeated those
sentences that had so appalled poor Marjorie, without a thrill of sorrow
for the child and a thrill of gladness for her quick and safe
restoration to them.

And the days hurried on, bringing Marjorie's birthday nearer and nearer.

On the fifteenth of July she would be thirteen years old.

"You see," said Cousin Jack, who was, as usual, Director General of the
celebration, "you see, Mehitabel, thirteen is said to be an unlucky
number."

"And must I be unlucky all the year?" asked Marjorie, in dismay.

"On the contrary,