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CHAPTER III.

A WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY PRESENT.

THERE was a room next to

Mary's mother's

Mary was rather

room which was not often used. surprised when her father carried her straight to this room instead of to her mother's. And when he lifted her down from his shoulder she was still more surprised to see that there was a nice little fire burning in the grate, and that the room looked quite cheerful and almost like another nursery, with a rocking-chair in front of the fire, and the blinds drawn up to let the pretty summer morning brightness in.

There was something in the corner of the room which Mary would have stared at a great deal if she had seen it. But just now she did not look that way, for she was surprised for the third time by seeing that a door stood open in the corner near the window, where she had never known before that there was a door.

"Where does that go to, papa?" she said, and she was running forward to look when her father stopped her.

"It goes into mamma's room, my pet," he said, "but I don't want you to go in there yet. Perhaps mamma's asleep."

"It's all dark," said Mary; she had been peeping in. She felt rather strange, and a very tiny, weeny bit frightened. Everything seemed "funny" this birthday morning. She almost felt as if she was dreaming.

"Why is mamma's room all dark?" she said again. "Is her asleep?"

"I'm not sure, dear. Wait here a minute and I'll see," and her father went into the next room, closing the door a little after him.

Mary and her brothers stood looking at each other. What was going to happen?

"It's to be a surprise, I s'pose," said Artie. "It's the guesses, I say," said Leigh.

"It's a birfday present for me. Papa said so," said Mary.

"We're speaking like the three bears," said

Artie laughing. "Let's go on doing it. It's rather fun. You say something, Leigh-say "somebody's been in my bed"- that'll do quite well. Say it very growlily."

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Somebody's been in my bed," said Leigh, as growlily as he could. Leigh was a very goodnatured boy, you see.

"Now, it's my turn," said Artie, and he tried. to make his voice into a kind of gruff squeak that he thought would do for the mamma bear's talking. "Somebody's been in my bed," he said. "Come along, Mary, it's you now."

Mary was laughing by this time.

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Somebody," she began in a queer little peepy tone, "somebody's - but suddenly a voice from the other side of the door made them all jump.

-

"My dear three bears," it said it was papa, of course, "be so good as to shut your eyes tight till I tell you to open them, and then Mary can finish.” They did shut their eyes-they heard papa come into the room and cross over to the corner which they had not looked at. Then there was a little rustling-then he called out:

"All right. Open your eyes. Now, Mary, Tiny Bear, fire away. Somebody's lying—

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"In my bed," said Mary, as she opened her eyes, thinking to herself how very funny papa

was.

But when her eyes were quite open she did stare. For there he was beckoning to her from the corner where he was standing beside a dear little bed, all white lace or muslin - Mary called all sorts of stuff like that "lace"-and pink ribbons.

"Oh," said Mary, running across the room, "that's my bed. Mamma showed it me one day. It were my bed when I was a little girl."

"Of course, it's your bed," said her father. "I told you to be Tiny Bear and say, 'somebody's lying in my bed.' Somebody is lying in your bed. Look and see."

Mary raised herself up on her tiptoes and peeped in. On the soft white pillow a little head was resting—a little head with dark fluffy curls all over it-Mary could not see all the curls, for there was a flannel shawl drawn round

the little head, but she could see the face and the curls above the forehead. "It," this wonderful asleep - its eyes were

a

tiny bit open, and it It had a dear little

rather pink all over. peaceful, and there

new doll, seemed to be shut, and its mouth was was breathing very softly. button of a nose, and it was It looked very cosy and seemed a sweet sort of lavendery scent all about the bed and the pretty new flannel blankets and the embroidered coverlet. That was prettywhite cashmere worked with tiny rosebuds. Mary remembered seeing her mamma working at it, and it was lined with pale pink silk. But just then, though Mary saw all these things and noticed them, yet, in another way, she did not see them. For all her real seeing and noticing went to the living thing in this dear little nest, the little, soft, sleeping, breathing face, that she gazed at as if she could never leave off. And behind her, gazing too, though Mary had the best place, of course, as it was her birthday and she was a girl -behind her stood her brothers. For a few seconds, which seemed longer to the children,

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