They all went into the little inn, and warmed themselves by the fire, and had a drink of hot milk or hot soup, as they preferred, and then bundled back into the sleigh for the homeward ride.

"I'm not cold now," said Kitty, cuddling into the fur robes.

The horses dashed back again over the snow, and soon after three o'clock they were at home.

The party was at four, so there was ample time to get ready.

"What kind of a party is it to be father?" asked Midge. "Any special kind?"

"Special kind?" said Mr. Maynard; "I should say so! It's an animal party, to be sure!"

"An animal party?" said Gladys, to Midge, as they went upstairs to dress; "what does he mean?"

"I don't know. You never can tell what Father's going to do. Especially on an Ourday. He always gets up lovely things for Ourdays."

"He's a jolly man," said Gladys; "I never saw anybody like him."

"Nor I either," agreed Midge; "I think he's just perfect."

The little girls all wore white dresses, each with a different colored ribbon, and were all ready, and sitting in state, at ten minutes before the hour appointed for the party.

"Isn't Delight coming, Mopsy?" asked Mrs. Maynard.

"No, mother; I just telephoned her, and she won't come. She's acting up foolish about Glad, you know."

"Indeed it is foolish," said Mrs. Maynard, looking annoyed; "I think I'll run over there and see what I can do."

"Oh, do, Mother; you always make everything come out all right."

"But I don't know whether I can make a silly little girl come out all right; however, I'll try."

Mrs. Maynard threw on some wraps and went over to the house across the street.

What arguments she used, or what she said to Delight, Marjorie never knew, but she returned, after a time, bringing both Delight and Miss Hart with her.

Delight made a beautiful picture in a filmy, lacy white frock, and a big blue bow on her golden curls.

"Hello, Flossy Flouncy!" cried King, and this broke the ice, and made it easier for Delight than a more formal greeting would have done.

"Hello, Old King Cole!" she responded, and then a number of other people came, and a general hubbub of conversation ensued.

"This is an animal party," said Mr. Maynard, when all the guests had arrived. Now where were the most animals ever gathered together?"

"In the circus!" cried one boy, and another said, "In the menagerie."

"Try again," said Mr. Maynard; "not right yet!"

"Hippodrome," shouted somebody, and "zoo!" cried somebody else, but to each Mr. Maynard shook his head.

"Go farther back," he said; "what was the first collection of animals in the world?"

And then Delight thought what he meant, and cried out, "Noah's Ark!"

"Of course!" said Mr. Maynard. "That's the place I meant. Well, then, here's an ark for each of you, and you can each play you're Noah."

He whisked a table cover off of a table by his side, and there was a great pile of toy Noah's arks. King and Flip distributed them, until everybody had one.

"Why, they're empty?" cried Midge, looking into hers.

"They won't be long," said her father. "Now, young people, scatter, and fill your arks with animals. Pretend you're hunting in the jungle, or whatever you like, but capture all the animals you can find for your arks. There are hundreds in these two rooms and the halls."

"Hidden?" asked Kitty.

"Yes, hidden and in plain sight, both. But wait; there's a schedule."

Mr. Maynard unfolded a paper, and read:

"Elephants count five, tigers ten, lions fifteen, bears five, kangaroos five, cats five; all two-legged animals or birds two, fishes one, camels twenty-five, and zebras fifty. After your arks are filled, we'll count them up according to schedule, and award prizes. Now, scoot!" They scooted, and spent a merry half hour hunting the animals. They found them in all sorts of places,—tucked in behind curtains, under sofa-pillows, between books, and round among the bric-a-brac on mantels and tables. They were the little wooden animals that belonged in the arks, and the children were greatly amused when they discovered, also, the small, queer little people that represent Noah and his family.

"I s'pose as these are two-legged animals they count as birds," said King.

"Yes," said Mr. Maynard, "all bipeds count alike."

As Marjorie made a dive for a tiger which she saw in the lower part of the hall hatrack, somebody else dived for it at the very same moment.

It was Delight, and both girls sat suddenly down on the floor, laughing at their bumped heads.

But when Delight saw that it was Midget, she stopped laughing and looked sober, and even sour.

"Don't, Delight," said Marjorie, gently, and putting her arms round her friend, she kissed her lovingly.

This melted Delight's foolish little heart, and she whispered, "Oh, Midge, you do like me best, don't you?"

But Midge was in no mood for emotional demonstration down under the hatrack, so she scrambled up, saying, "I shan't if you act as foolish as you have done. You behave decently to Gladys and to me, and then see what'll happen."

With this Midge calmly walked away and collected more animals, while Delight, rather stunned by this summary advice, jumped up and went after animals, too.

At last the collecting was over and the children brought their arks to Mr. Maynard. With Miss Hart to help him, it didn't take very long to figure out the schedule value of each ark-full, and prizes were given to those three whose score was highest.

Flip Henderson had first prize, and Delight had second, while the third went to Harry Frost. Delight was greatly pleased, and Marjorie was glad, too, for she thought it might make her more amiable.

But that wasn't the reason; the real reason was because Midge had kissed her, and then had scolded her roundly. This combination of treatment affected the strange little heart of Delight, and she began at once to be nice and pleasant to Gladys and to everybody.

The next game was like Jackstraws, but it wasn't Jackstraws.

All the ark-fulls of animals were emptied out into a heap on the table, and the children sat round. Each was given a teaspoon, and with this they must remove as many animals as possible without moving any other than the one touched. They might use either end of the teaspoon, but must not use their fingers.

The animals counted as in the former schedule and as each was picked from the pile it was given to Miss Hart, and she credited it to the player who took it.

Of course, as in Jackstraws, if one made a mis-play it was the next player's turn. This game was great fun, and they watched each other breathlessly, though careful not to joggle anybody.

"Now, Flossy Flouncy," cried King, "it's your turn. In you go! Catch a camel first thing!"

Delight was a little embarrassed at King's raillery, but she was bound she wouldn't show it, and her slim little white fingers grasped the teaspoon firmly.

She only took off a few, for the excitement of it made her nervous and her hand shook. But she was glad she didn't win a prize in that game, for nobody likes to win two prizes at the same party.



CHAPTER XX

CHESSY CATS

After that game they played several other animal games, some quiet and some noisy, and then Mr. Maynard announced that they would play "Chessy Cats."

"What in the world is that?" said Gladys to King. "I never heard of it."

"Nor I," he responded; "probably Father made it up. Well, we'll soon see."

Mr. Maynard chose two captains, one being Gladys, as it was really her party, and the other Flip Henderson.

These two captains were asked to stand opposite each other at the end of the room, and to "choose sides."

"You must each," said Mr. Maynard, "choose the girls or boys who seem to you most like Chessy Cats."

This advice was not very intelligible, but as it was Gladys' turn to choose first, she chose King.

Then Flip chose Marjorie, as it seemed to him polite to take his hostess.

Then in a burst of good feeling Gladys chose Delight, and though she wanted to refuse, she stifled her ill-nature and stood up next to King.

Then the choosing went on until all were taken, and the two long lines stood on either side of the room.

"You see," said Mr. Maynard, "this is a contest of happiness. I want to see which line of children represents the greater amount of merriment. Will you all please smile?"

Every face broke into a grin, and Mr. Maynard looked at them thoughtfully.

"You all seem happy," he said; "a fine lot of Chessy Cats. You know Chessy Cats are remarkable for their wide grins. But as I have a prize for the side that shows most grin, I have to be careful of my decision. Miss Hart, if you will help me, I think we'll have to find out exactly which row of Chessy Cats grins the widest."

Miss Hart, smiling like a Chessy Cat herself, came forward with a lot of short strips of white paper in her hand. She gave half of these to Mr. Maynard, and then the fun began.

They actually measured each child's grin, marking on the paper with a pencil the exact length of each mouth from corner to corner as it was stretched in a smile. Of course a fresh paper was used for each, and wide indeed was the grin when the grinner realized the absurdity of having his smile measured!

Then, of course, each tried to grin his very widest, for the success of his line and the glory of his captain. Delight's little rosebud mouth couldn't make a very wide grin, but she stretched it as wide as possible, showing her pretty white teeth, and held it motionless while it was measured.

It was astonishing how wide some of them could stretch their smiling mouths, and how absurd they looked while standing stock still to be measured. Their ridiculous grimaces caused shouts of laughter from the Chessy Cats who were not being measured at the moment.

"Midget! she's the one that counts!" cried King. "She's got a smile like an earthquake! Flossy Flouncy, here, she won't count half as much!"

Marjorie only laughed at King's comment, and spread her rosy lips in a desperate effort to beat the record.

At last all were measured, and taking a pair of scissors, Miss Hart clipped the ends off the papers where the mark was, and thus each paper represented the exact width of a smile.

The papers of each side were then placed end to end, and the whole length measured. The result was fifty-four inches of smile for Flip's side, and fifty-two for Gladys'.

"Hooray, Mopsy!" cried King. "I knew your mouth was two inches bigger than Delight's!"

"Oh, no, brother," rejoined Midge, "it's because your mouth is so tiny you can't smile very well!"

But whatever the reason, there was a good two inches difference in the aggregate, so Flip Henderson's side was the winner.

"As all the Chessy Cats grinned nobly, you must all have prizes," said Mr. Maynard, and so to the winning side were given boxes of candy with a funny figure of a grinning Chessy Cat on top. Both boxes and cats were bright red, and gay little prizes they were.

"But as the other side were too sad and solemn to grin broadly, we'll give them black cats," said Mr. Maynard, and all of Gladys' line received prizes exactly like the others, except that the cats were black. Of course, they were equally pretty and desirable, and were really souvenirs of the party instead of prizes.

Then they all went to the dining-room for supper. Miss Hart played a merry march on the piano, and King, escorting Gladys, went first, Marjorie and Flip followed, and then all the children came, two by two.

To carry out the idea of an "animal party," the table had been cleverly arranged to represent a farmyard. All the middle part of it was enclosed by a little fence that ran along just inside the plates, and in the enclosure were toy animals of all sorts. Downy yellow chickens, furry cats, woolly sheep, and comical roosters stood about in gay array. Also there were Teddy Bears, and possums and even lions and tigers, which though not usually found in farmyards, seemed amicably disposed enough. A delightful feast was eaten, and then, for dessert, Sarah brought in a great platter of ice cream in forms of animals. And with these animals crackers were served, and many merry jests were made as the children bit off the heads of ferocious wild beasts, or stabbed the ice cream animals with their spoons. As they left the table, each guest was invited to take one animal from the "farmyard," to carry away.

Rosy Posy announced frankly, "Don't anybuddy take de Teddy Bear, 'cause me wants it."

They all laughed, and needless to say, the bear was left for the baby, whose turn came last.

Delight chose a little white kitten, with a blue ribbon round its neck, and Gladys took a fierce-looking tiger.

Everybody agreed they had never attended a jollier party, and the smiles, as they said good-bye, were indeed of the Chessy Cat variety.

"Ourday isn't over yet, Father," said Midge, after the last guest had gone.

"Oho, I think it's time little Chessy Cats went to bed," said Mr. Maynard.

"No, indeed! the party was from four to seven, and though they staid a little later, it's only half-past seven now. And Ourday nights we always stay up till half-past eight."

"My stars! a whole hour more of Chessy Cats! That's enough to make any one grin. All right Midgety, what do you want me to do?"

"It's King's choose," said Marjorie; "it's his Ourday, you know."

So King chose "Twenty Questions," a game of which he never tired, and a jolly hour they all spent in playing it.

Then bedtime was definitely announced, and it was a lot of rather tired Chessy Cats who climbed the stairs, after many and repeated good-nights.

As Gladys' visit was to be such a short one Mrs. Maynard advised Midget not to go to lessons during her stay.

Marjorie was a little disappointed at this, but she couldn't very well go off and leave Gladys, and it would have been awkward to take her, so she staid away herself. The two girls had good times, and both Mr. and Mrs. Maynard planned many pleasant things for their enjoyment, but still Marjorie was not altogether sorry when on Tuesday Gladys took her departure.

"What's this fuss about Gladys and Delight?" asked Mr. Maynard, as they all sat chatting Tuesday evening.

"Oh, Father, it's so silly!" said Marjorie; "I don't know what to make of Delight. It isn't a bit Glad's fault. She was as sweet as pie; but Delight was as sour as buttermilk."

"She's jealous, I suppose."

"Yes, I suppose that's it. But, you see, Father, she's a different girl from us."

"Different how?"

"Oh, I don't know exactly. But she's sort of a spoiled child, you know, and whatever she has, she hates to have any one else touch it."

"Even you."

"Yes, even me. I like Delight an awful lot, but I like Gladys too."

"Of course you do. Now, Midget, listen to your old and wise Father. Forget all this foolishness. Gladys is gone now, and Delight is your very good friend, your best friend in Rockwell. Just keep on being friends with her, and do all you can to be a good friend. Don't discuss Gladys with her, don't discuss her actions, or her jealousy, or whatever foolishness is in her pretty little noddle. You are both too young to take these things seriously. But if you are a kind, loyal little friend to her, she will soon learn to be the same to you."

"But, Father, she wants me all to herself. She doesn't like to have me be friends with the other girls in Rockwell even."

"That you mustn't stand. Just go on in your own way. Be friendly with whom you choose, but always be kind and considerate of Delight's feelings. Of course, you two having your lessons alone together is largely responsible for this state of things. School would be better for you both in many ways. But you like the present arrangement, and Miss Hart is a blessing to you both. I think she can help you in persuading Delight to be a little less exacting."

"Yes, Father, she does; she understands the case, and she's always trying to make Delight less selfish."

"And perhaps,—I hate to suggest it,—but possibly Miss Mopsy Maynard might have some little tiny speck of a fault,—just a microscopic flaw in her character—"

"Now, Father, don't tease! I know I have! I'm a bad, impulsive, mischievous old thing, and I never think in time,—then the first thing I know I've done something awful! Delight's not a bit like that."

"Oh, you needn't give yourself such a dreadful character. I know you pretty well, and I'm quite pleased, on the whole, with my eldest daughter. But I do want you to learn to be a little less heedless; you know heedlessness is, after all, a sort of selfishness,—a disregard of others' convenience."

"I'm going to try, Father. I'll try real hard, and if I don't succeed, I'll try, try again."

"That's my good little Mopsy. Now, skip to bed, and don't let these serious matters keep you awake. Forget them, and dream of fairies and princesses dressed in pearls and roses and all sorts of lovely things."

"And blue velvet robes trimmed with ermine?"

"Yes, and golden sceptres, and swanboats to ride in on lakes where pond lilies bloom."

"And golden chariots, with milk white steeds, garlanded with flowers."

"Yes,—and that's about all; good-night."

"And enchanted carpets that carry you in a minute to India and Arabia."

"Yes, and upstairs to bed! Good-night."

"And knights in armor, with glittering spears—"

"Good-night, Marjorie Maynard!"

"Good-night, Father. And rose-gardens with fountains and singing birds—"

"Skip, you rascal! Scamper, fly, scoot! Good-night for the last time!"

"Good-night," called Marjorie, half way up-stairs, "good-night, Father dear."

"Good-night, Midget, good-night."

THE END