"iwonder what it all means," said happie, as she turned from the glass to let margery button the middle buttons of her waist. "we are giving a party to-day in the tea room; next week we intend to close it for three days. it seems to me it isn't as much like a real business as it should be, not a businesslike business. i meant to go into it in a life-or-death way. just as if i were all the time reciting, 'give me three grains of corn, mother,' and the tea room were the three grains of corn; all there was between us and starvation, i mean. but it is rather like a playhouse tea room. i wonder why?"

"it's miss bradbury's fault," said gretta before margery could answer. "first she paid the rent ahead, now she invites us up——"

"to your house!" margery laughingly interrupted.

"well!" admitted gretta. "only it never can seem mine. up to the ark, anyway, and tells you to close the tea room. i think she makes us all feel as though the tea room weren't necessary, somehow."

"gretta's right," said margery. "there is something in the air that makes the tea room seem like a side issue. yet no one could have been more in earnest than we were about it. and we have helped mother a great d[208]eal with its results this winter. oh, i suppose we imagine it. it really isn't important that we close the room for those three days. it will go on just the same, and we are a little tired. that is what aunt keren saw, probably. yet there is a stir in the air—as if something were going to happen."

margery pinned a long-stemmed american beauty rose on her breast as she spoke, having shaken it out of the box where it lay with twenty-three of its sisters, and smiled at her reflection, without seeing it.

"something good, i hope," said happie.

"good? oh, yes! nothing but the best of good things happens to the scollards lately! i hope we are grateful enough. i don't feel as though there were enough of me to be as grateful as i ought to be," margery responded.

"a full teacup is as full as a full ocean, margery. i think we're grateful in the best way when we're happy," said happie, perhaps more wisely than she knew. "now if you two big girls are ready we'll go and help motherums with the little girls, and be off to our mixed-tea room party, as bob calls it."

it was an unusual party, "but that was no harm," as polly sensibly pointed out. in the first place parties are not usually held in tea rooms, nor do they combine the oldest with the youngest child, and all the ages between, flanked by two mothers, as in this case. mrs. charleford came with edith. mrs. scollard accepted her invitation with more pleasure than any one else, perh[209]aps, because she "so rarely had a chance to see her flock frolic by daylight," as she said herself.

mrs. gordon was asked, but could not come. ralph and snigs represented the family, unsuspecting margery's plot to increase their family joy, or rather to widen it. happie had caught all three of her e's without an engagement, as it chanced. little serena jones-dexter came with her nurse, looking very white and pathetic. she had sprained her ankle and could not enjoy the party except as a spectator. she had so strongly set her heart upon coming that her doting grandmother had not had the courage to say her nay, so serena came in state, borne in by a footman, attended by her nurse. she was ensconced in pillows in the very centre of the room in the biggest of chairs where she could see everything, poor little patient bit of childhood, with the big eyes and the beautiful little white face.

it was a holiday, of course, and the girls had felt sure that no one would try to visit the tea room, but hardly had the guests all arrived when some one did turn the door handle and in walked hans lieder. he stopped short as he saw the assemblage and took off his wide brimmed hat with a profound bow.

"a thousand pardons, young ladies," he said. "i see that this room is not this room to-day. i did not know."

[210]

"oh, if he would play!" whispered laura to margery.

"we are having a party, herr lieder," margery said, stepping forward, looking so pretty in her pale green gown with the american beauties against her golden hair and nestling close to her fair skin, that herr lieder's gloomy eyes lightened involuntarily as they rested on her. "it is a party of all ages and sizes, rather a frolic than a party. would you care to watch our games?"

"if my music would give you or your guests any pleasure, mademoiselle, i should gladly remain to play to you," said the man who still was a person of mystery to the six maidens.

"pleasure! it would be more than that, herr lieder. only we could not play games; we could do nothing but listen, if you were playing," said margery.

"no," said hans lieder, throwing his hat down in the corner and following it with his cloak as he divested himself of it. "no. i can be the pied piper when i will, and set your pulses throbbing beyond the possibility of doing anything else but frolic."

"this is our mother, mrs. scollard, herr lieder," said happie, bringing her mother up to this unexpected addition to the party, "and my brother. you are very kind, but we should be sorry to have you tire yourself for us, or——"

"fräulein glücklich," said hans lieder, and happie laughed in pleased appreciation of this variation on her name, "fräul[211]ein glücklich, there is nothing rests me, nothing interests me, nothing helps me to forget, save music. it will give me pleasure to play for you until you beg me to stop. this piano is a sort of miracle to me, and it is my greatest pleasure to touch it. i once had a piano of this make, this action, this same case; in short, it is identically my piano again, and i play on it wondering at the similarity, and dreaming that the impossible has happened and that all that i have thrown away is restored to me."

happie glanced around to see who had heard these strange words that thrilled her with a feeling of fear and awe. her mother had moved away after the bow with which she had acknowledged happie's introduction; bob had gone; no one had heard what this singular man had said, and he went immediately to the piano and began to play.

ralph, bob and snigs had never heard him before. "the moment he begins you have to sit up and take notice," remarked bob to ralph, who nodded with all his might, being too engrossed in the "notice" he was taking to reply otherwise.

the girls had not intended to have a dancing party, but there was no resisting the waltz into which the long fingers fell, inviting the keys to magic, all feet to motion.

ralph danced, with happie first, with laura, and then with happie's friends, but as he turned, with edith charleford as a partner, his eyes caught little serena's acr[212]oss edith's shoulder, so bright, so unchildlike in their beauty and wistfulness that ralph's big heart went out to her with a bound.

"poor little thing! sitting there so patiently!" he thought. "the girls say she is a fairy dancer! i wonder why i shouldn't be decent to her as i would be to any other forlorn mite? she can't help being my cousin, and she doesn't know she is; she's too little to know about family feuds anyway. she looks as though she were bearing the burden of mrs. jones-dexter's misbehavior. i should think the jewish scapegoat might have looked like that when it was a kid. i never saw such wistful eyes." ralph laughed at his fancy about the youthful scapegoat, and edith stopped dancing imperatively.

"i wonder what you will be when you are an old man?" she exclaimed pettishly, being accustomed to attention whenever her prettiness demanded it. "you are as absent-minded as if you had been vivisected, and your mind taken out. i have spoken to you three times and you haven't heard me! and just how you laughed, when there was nothing to laugh at!"

"there certainly isn't, when a fellow is rude to a girl, and happie's best friend at that," said ralph contritely, though his implication that edith derived part of her importance from happie was not flattering. "i beg your pardon, but the truth is i was engrossed in that little girl over there, the child that isn't well, and if you will excuse me i think i'll go over and try[213] to get her to look less like sixty and more like six, which is her age, i believe."

he led edith to a chair with perfect certainty that he was to be released, and edith stared at him in amazement. "well, you are an extraordinary boy!" she gasped. "but i don't mind your rudeness at all. i think it is rather nice of you to be interested in that child. yes, i'll excuse you."

"thank you," said ralph calmly, and walked over to little serena.

"not much fun sitting still, is it, little lady?" he asked in a way he had which made all children go to him like butterflies to blossoms, the secret of the true child-lover which cannot be imitated nor taught.

"i love to dance," said serena wistfully.

"will you dance with me?" asked ralph.

"i can't, not to-day. i have sprained my ankle," said serena.

"ah, but i haven't!" cried ralph. "let me take you for a waltz. my feet are so much bigger than yours that one pair like them will take the place of yours and of the little partners you have when you are dancing up-stairs. come, your serene highness!"

serena looked up with a delighted laugh. "that's my dearest pet name! how did you know it?" she cried, and held up her hands for ralph to lift her. "i'm going to dance with this nice, this very nice big boy, mary," she added to her nurse.

[214]

ralph lifted her carefully. "i'll not harm her," he said to the doubtful mary, and adjusting serena to his broad shoulder ralph began to dance with his little cousin, quite unmoved by what the other boys and girls might think of the queer performance. what margery thought of it would be hard to say. she caught robert gaston's sleeve, he being nearest to her as usual, and her eyes shone like stars.

"look!" she whispered. "do look at ralph! it's the most fortunate thing that little serena happened to be hurt! ralph can hardly resist a sweet child at any time, but one that is suffering is wholly irresistible to him. and serena is such a lovely child!"

"fortune is favoring you, lady of the deep-laid plots," smiled robert. "i am not surprised. i felt almost sure that the lion and the lamb would lie down together if you led them up."

"oh, they haven't done that yet, but i can't help hoping!" cried margery.

"never try to help hoping, it's the best thing that one can do—i think i hope a little, wee bit myself these pleasant days, margery."

margery looked straight before her, trying to hide the tumult of her pulses as she heard her name without the prefix for the first time from robert's lips, and guessed his meaning—as she easily might do.

in the meantime ralph circled around the room with his small cousin whose pale face was rosy from laughing at this kind big boy's nonsense. he stopped at last before her chair and deposited serena in it. she looked up [215]at him from its depths with affectionate admiration.

"i've had a perfectly lovely waltz," she said fervently.

"so have i," echoed ralph. "i think henceforth i shall never dance with a partner who is too big to be carried—saves all the bother of steering. they're going to play a game—try to cut down george washington's cherry tree over there. how would you like to play it too instead of watching them? in my arms, you know. you will be blindfolded, and so shall i, and you shall tell me where to go, but you shall make your own chop at the tree and try for a prize as well as the rest who haven't sprained their ankles. what do you say to that idea, your serene highness?"

serena clapped her hands, then her bright face clouded. "i'd love it!" she cried. "but it would be hard for you to carry a great girl six years old, and i wouldn't like to spoil your party—not anybody's party, but specially anybody so dearly good."

"and so goodly dear," said ralph. "little serene highness, don't you worry over that. i'd be playing the game double, twice blindfolded, twice chopping, with you in my arms, so i'd have twice as much fun, don't you see?"

"you must be fond of children, sir," said the nurse, looking curiously at ralph.

[216]

ralph caught the suspicious note of the lower order of mind, which is apt to doubt the motives of unusual kindness, as well as the jealous note of the nurse for her nursling.

he smiled at mary, and ralph's smile generally inspired confidence. "there isn't anything much nicer than little people, is there?" he asked. "and this little person has a look that seems to make one want her to have as good a time, for as long a time, as she can. i'm glad to carry her around and let her get into things."

mary's eyes suddenly filled. "i know the look; they don't see it," she said very low. "you're a fine boy, whoever you are, and i hope you'll be sent good times of your own for the interest you take in this darling."

"thank you," said ralph. "why, here's my polly!"

"she's my polly too," cried serena. "and penny's my penny, but most of all miss margery's my miss margery."

"i didn't know you knew our ralph, serena," cried polly, running up to take possession of ralph's hand. "happie sent me to tell you she wants you to help stand the tree up, ralph."

"i'll be back for you, little serene highness, when we've propped the tree," said ralph hastening to obey.

they put the tree into its place and distributed hatchets to all the company. "first, the national parade!" shout[217]ed bob, under an inspiration. "shoulder arms!"

everybody shouldered his tiny hatchet, herr lieder began to play a medley of national airs in march time. ralph rushed over, caught serena up on his left arm, fell into place, and all the company, large and small, marched around and around the tea room, brandishing hatchets and trying to sing familiar words that no longer fitted familiar airs when played in marching time, regardless of the original tempo.

"the first chop is auntie cam's!" cried happie. "come and be blindfolded, auntie. and next motherums!"

mrs. charleford submitted to the bandage over her eyes, while herr lieder played the queerest sort of music, so humorous that everybody laughed at it just as they would have laughed at funny words. when mrs. charleford was safely blindfolded and bob turned her around three times to the left, and thrice to the right herr lieder played something that laura correctly described as "dizzy." it was full of hints of tunes, none of which developed. "don't you see?" cried laura in ecstasy. "it means you don't know where you are!"

then to the accompaniment of soft running arpeggios mrs. charleford went slowly forward, hesitated, turned, went in the opposite direction, raised her hatchet, put out her other hand gropingly, stopped when everybody cried, "no fair; no fair feeling!" and struck—to a[218] crashing chord of herr lieder's—a valiant blow directly at elsie barker's head, who dodged it by throwing herself on eleanor vernon. "she thought you were a cherry, elsie!" cried edith amid the applause that greeted this first blow. elsie was so proud of her red hair that there was no danger in teasing her about it.

mrs. scollard walked without a moment's hesitation to the portière and struck her hatchet deep into its folds. "mother is trying to bury the hatchet," said bob, untying the handkerchief that hid her eyes. "come, eleanor! you might bear in mind that it is the tree, and not the tea room or its friends that we are after."

eleanor seemed to heed the warning, for a shout of applause greeted her as she aimed a blow at the tip-most top of the little tree, and robert gaston pinned on the spot the first numbered slip the tree had received.

margery followed. she walked directly to the book-shelf and struck her blow on the back of "lady baltimore."

"oh, come now, margery! you don't want to hit anything that is stamped baltimore!" protested snigs.

"i don't know about that special kind of cake, the lady baltimore of the novel, but margery thinks baltimore things take the cake," said elsie barker.

[219]

there were some of the players who could keep their bearings, or were more lucky than the first ones. gradually the little cherry tree began to blossom with white strips, and the scollards were reassured by seeing that some one could take a prize, which seemed doubtful at first while everybody was aiming wide of the tree.

ralph came up with serena to be blindfolded. he had played for himself and had deposited his record on a table nearest to the window and farthest from the tree. now he had to be blindfolded again, to be sure that he was really guided by serena and playing fair, and serena herself had a handkerchief bound around her fair hair, hiding her excited eyes.

"that way, ralph, walk that way!" she cried, pointing directly to the tree. ralph obeyed. the child pushed and pressed him from side to side; it was a hard matter to be certain what she wanted him to do, but ralph patiently did his best, and stopped when serena gave the order. "now!" she whispered, drawing in her breath.

she struck a mighty blow, using all her strength as if it had been a veritable tree chopping, and her blow went home, right above the mark on the tree which had been made to designate the spot used as the standard for prize winning.

"hurrah for little serena!" shouted bob hurrying up to uncover the child's eyes and her bearer's. "nobody else has come near you, serena, and i'm sure nobody will. you're the one who has done it with your little hatchet;[220] you've won the prize, sure thing."

serena turned and hugged ralph frantically. "oh, you dear, dear, darling big boy!" she cried, to everybody's amusement. "i love you and i love you! i never won a prize in all my life, and i'm six. i'm going to give half of it to you!"

there were not many more to try their skill after serena, and the interest in the game flagged a little with the certainty that the best possible blow had been struck. serena had won the first prize, robert gaston the second, with a mark to his credit on a short lower limb, near the test mark on the trunk of the tree.

the consolation prize had to be drawn for by five, mrs. charleford and ralph among them. mrs. charleford won it, a little japanese hen standing on a card bearing the inscription "a hatch it you may count on."

serena was given a candy box in the shape of a tree trunk, tied with red, white and blue ribbon, finished with a bunch of artificial japanese cherry blossoms, and filled with candied cherries.

she beamed at it and at margery who brought it to her.

"i'm so glad it's something i can divide with my nice boy," she said. "i'm going to give him 'most all the cherries. maybe he won't mind if i keep the box and the flowers and the ribbon? oh, he's right here! will you, ralph, care if i keep what's outside and give you the inside[221]?"

"not a bit, little serene highness! i don't want more than one bite of a cherry from the inside. i'm just your horse that you drove to win the race, you know."

"didn't we have fun?" sighed serena contentedly. "i never went to so nice a party, miss margery, and i'm six. grandma said, 'what's the use of going, serena, when you can't move about one bit?' but i was crazy to come. she didn't know ralph was here. neither did i. we didn't know there was a ralph. isn't it funny how you don't know people till you do know them, and then you love them?"

"it's wonderful, little serena!" margery assented with fervor. "and then you can't imagine how your old world used to look without them! i'm glad that you had such a happy time, dear. i'm very glad ralph gave it to you!"

she smiled on ralph, and he turned away. "i'm not feuding on my own account, you know, and anyway it wouldn't be this child's fault," he murmured.

"i must take you home, miss serena," said mary. "mrs. jones-dexter said not later than five."

"i don't believe she knew how early five would be here," sighed serena, submitting to the decree meekly. "i wish you'd come and see me, my nice ralph."

"i'm afraid i can't do that, little serene highness, but maybe we'll meet again. life is long and very queer in its ways.[222] good-bye, sweet little lady."

serena said good-bye wistfully and watched ralph walk away with longing in her eyes. not because life is long, but because it is short, serena was soon to see again the cousin whom she did not know.

the frolic broke up by seven. it had been a pleasant afternoon to everybody who had accepted margery's peculiar invitation. even herr lieder seemed to have enjoyed making music for the young people, and watching the fun. certainly he had added a great deal to the success of the afternoon.

margery, walking down the street behind the rather long procession of her family and guests, with robert gaston beside her, sang in her heart as she brooded over the real success which she believed she had attained.

it could not be, she felt sure, that ralph's kindness to little serena, given without a thought of consequences beyond making the ailing child happy for a few hours, could be without fruit. some day, she felt sure, his goodness of heart would win him further friendship from serena, who would not forget "her kind, big boy."

margery knew how hard it was going to be for mrs. gordon to send ralph to college the coming year and yet how certainly she was going to struggle to do so, and how ralph was planning to help himself through the course. "if only serena should beg to see the 'big boy' again, if she should grow deeply fond of him, if for her sa[223]ke mrs. jones-dexter should do what she easily could do for her niece and her grandnephew, if as years went by serena, growing fonder and fonder of ralph——"

"what are you dreaming of, margery? i have spoken to you twice, and you did not hear me!" complained robert gaston at her elbow.

"oh, i beg your pardon! i was dreaming of the possible fruit of the little tree at which we have all been vainly chopping this afternoon," margery answered. "i do think it's heavenly to fancy you see a sweet story working itself out, and to feel as though you had contributed one tiny page of it yourself!"

[224]