Marjorie at Seacote | Page 2

pink!"
Then King added a refrain, and in a moment they had all joined hands
and were dancing round Mrs. Maynard and singing:
"Hooray, hooray, for our mother fair! Hooray, hooray, for the flower in
her hair! All over the hills and far away, There's no one so sweet as
Mothery May!"
Being accustomed to boisterous adulation from her children, Mrs.
Maynard bore her honors gracefully, and then they all went out to
dinner.

As Maiden of Honor, Kitty was escorted by her father; next came Mrs.
Maynard and Kingdon, and then Marjorie and Rosy Posy. The table
had extra decorations of flowers and pink-shaded candles, and at Kitty's
place was a fascinating looking lot of tissue-papered and ribbon-tied
parcels.
"Isn't it funny," said sedate and philosophical Kitty, "I love to go to
Grandma's, and yet I hate to leave you all, and yet, I can't do one
without doing the other!"
"'Tis strange, indeed, Kit!" agreed her father; "as Mr. Shakespeare says,
'Yet every sweet with sour is tempered still.' Life is like lemonade, sour
and sweet both."
"It's good enough," said Kitty, contentedly, looking at her array of
bundles. "I guess I'll open these now."
"That's what they're there for," said Mrs. Maynard, so Kitty excitedly
began to untie the ribbons.
"I'll go slowly," she said, pulling gently at a ribbon bow, "then they'll
last longer."
"Now, isn't that just like you, Kit!" exclaimed Marjorie. "I'd snatch the
papers off so fast you couldn't see me jerk."
"I know you would," said Kitty, simply.
The sisters were very unlike, for Midget's ways were impulsive and
impatient, while Kitty was slow and careful. But finally the papers
came off, and revealed the lovely gifts.
Mrs. Maynard had made a pretty silk workbag, which could be spread
out, or gathered up close on its ribbon. When outspread, it showed a
store of needles and thread, of buttons, hooks, tapes,--everything a little
girl could need to keep her clothes in order.
"Oh, Mother, it's perfect!" cried Kitty, ecstatically. "I love those

cunning little pockets, with all sewy things in them! And a darling
silver thimble! And a silver tape measure, and a silver-topped emery!
Oh, I do believe I'll sew all the time this summer!"
"Pooh, I wouldn't!" said Marjorie. "The things are lovely, but I'd rather
play than sew."
"Sewing is play, I think," and Kitty fingered over her treasures lovingly.
"Grandma will help me with my patterns, and I'm going to piece a silk
teachest quilt. Oh, Mother, it will be such fun!"
"Call that fun!" and Marjorie looked disdainfully at her sister. "Fun is
racing around and playing tag, and cutting up jinks generally!"
"For you it is," Kitty agreed, amiably, "but not for me. I like what I
like."
"That's good philosophy, Kitty," said her father. "Stick to it always.
Like what you like, and don't be bothered by other people's comments
or opinions. Now, what's in that smallish, flattish, whitish parcel?"
The parcel in question proved to be a watch, a dear little gold watch.
Kitty had never owned one before, and it almost took her breath away.
"Mine?" she exclaimed, in wonder. "All mine?"
"Yes, every bit yours," said Mr. Maynard, smiling at her. "Every wheel
and spring, every one of its three hands, every one of its twelve hours
are all, all yours. Do you like it?"
"Like it! I can't think of any words to tell you how much I like it."
"I'll think of some for you," said the accommodating Marjorie. "You
could say it's the grandest, gloriousest, gorgeousest, magnificentest
present you ever had!"
"Yes, I could say that," Kitty agreed, "but I never should have thought
of it. I 'most always say a thing is lovely. Now, what in the world is
this?"

"This" proved to be a well-stocked portfolio, the gift of King. There
were notepaper and envelopes and a pen and pencils and stamps and
everything to write letters with.
"I picked out all the things myself," King explained, "because it's nicer
that way than the ready furnished ones. Do you like it, Kit?"
"Yes, indeedy! And I shall write my first letter to you, because you
gave it to me."
"Oh, Kitty-Cat Kit, a letter she writ, And sent it away, to her brother
one day,"
chanted Marjorie, and, as was their custom, they all sang the song after
her, some several times over.
"Now for mine," Midget said, as Kitty slowly untied the next parcel. It
was two volumes of Fairy Tales, which literature was Kitty's favorite
reading.
"Oh, lovely!" she exclaimed. "On summer afternoons you can think of
me, sitting out in the tree-house reading these. I shall pretend I'm a
Fairy Princess. These are beautiful stories, I can see that already."
Kitty's quick eye had caught an interesting