Marjories Vacation | Page 4

cream, which, Kitty declared, always made a party, anyway.
So with the general air of celebration, and Mr. Maynard's gay chatter
and jokes, the little trace of sadness that threatened to appear was kept
out of sight, and all through the summer Marjorie had only pleasant
memories of her last evening at home.
After the dessert the waitress appeared again with a trayful of parcels,
done up in the most fascinating way, in tissue paper and dainty ribbons.
This, too, was always a part of the farewell feast, and Marjorie gave a
little sigh of satisfaction, as the well-filled tray was placed before her.
"That's mine! Open mine first!" cried Rosamond, as Marjorie picked up
a good-sized bundle.

"Yes, that's Rosy Posy's," said her mother, laughing, "and she picked it
out herself, because she thought it would please you. Open it first,
Midge."
So Marjorie opened the package, and discovered a little clock, on the
top of which was perched a brilliant red bird.
Rosamond clapped her hands in glee. "I knew you'd love it," she cried,
"'cause it's a birdie, a yed birdie. And I finded it all mysef in the man's
shop. Do you yike it, Mopsy?"
"Indeed I do," cried Marjorie; "it's just what I wanted. I shall keep it on
my dressing-table at Grandma's, and then I'll know just when to get up
every morning."
"Open mine next," said Kitty; "it's the square flat one, with the blue
ribbon."
So Marjorie opened Kitty's present and it was a picture, beautifully
framed to hang on the wall at Grandma's. The picture was of birds, two
beautiful orioles on a branch. The colors were so bright, and so true to
nature, that Marjorie exclaimed in delight:
"Now I shall have orioles there, anyway, whether there are real ones in
the trees or not. It is lovely, Kitsie, and I don't see how you ever found
such a beautiful bird picture."
Marjorie had always been fond of birds, and lately had begun studying
them in earnest. Orioles were among her favorites, and so Kitty's
picture was a truly welcome gift. King's present came next, and was a
beautiful gold pen with a pearl holder.
"That," he explained, "is so you'll write to us often. For I know, Mops,
your old penholder is broken, and it's silver, anyway. This is nicer,
because it's no trouble to keep it clean and bright."
"That's so, King, and I'm delighted with this one. I shall write you a
letter with it, first of all, and I'll tell you all about the farm."

Mrs. Maynard's gift was in a very small parcel, and when Marjorie
opened it she found a dear little pearl ring.
"Oh, goody!" she cried. "I do love rings, and I never had one before!
May I wear it always, Mother?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Maynard, smiling. "I don't approve of much jewelry
for a little girl not yet twelve years old, but you may wear that."
Marjorie put it on her finger with great satisfaction, and Kitty looked at
it lovingly.
"May I have one when I am twelve, Mother?" she asked.
"May I, may I?" chimed in Rosy Posy.
"Yes," said Mr. Maynard; "you girls may each have one just like
Marjorie's when you are as old as she is now. That last parcel, Mops, is
my present for you. I'm not sure that you can learn to use it, but perhaps
you can, and if not I'll take it back and exchange it for something else."
Marjorie eagerly untied the wrappings of her father's gift, and found a
little snapshot camera.
"Indeed I can learn to use it," she cried; "I took some pictures once with
a camera that belonged to one of the girls at school, and they were all
right. Thank you heaps and heaps, father dear; I'll send you pictures of
everything on the place; from Grandma herself down to the littlest,
weeniest, yellow chicken."
"Next year it will be my turn to go," said Kitty; "I hope I'll get as lovely
presents as Mopsy has."
"You will," said Kingdon; "because last year mine were just as good,
and so, of course, yours will be."
"I'm sure they will," said Kitty.

CHAPTER II
THE TRIP TO HASLEMERE
The next morning all was bustle and excitement.
Mr. Maynard stayed at home from business to escort the travellers to
the train. The trunks were packed, and everything was in readiness for
their departure. Marjorie herself, in a spick-and- span pink gingham
dress, a tan-colored travelling cloak, and a broad-brimmed white straw
hat, stood in the hall saying good-bye to the other children. She carried
Puff in her arm, and the sleepy, indifferent kitten cared little whither
she was going.
"Be sure," Kingdon was saying, "to plant the seeds I gave you