“Oh, I’d like to see them!” exclaimed Lulu, and she and Grace tripped back to the house together, and on into the sitting-room, where, on a large table, the gifts were displayed.

They were many, and some of them costly, for the old lady was very dear to the hearts of these relatives, and they were able as well as willing to show their affection in this substantial way.

There were fine paintings and engravings to adorn her walls; fine china, and glittering cut glass, silver and gold ware for her tables; vases for her mantels; richly-bound and illustrated books, whose literary contents were worthy of the costly adornment, and various other things calculated to give her pleasure or add to her ease and comfort.

She was not anticipating any such demonstration of affection—­not expecting such substantial evidences of the love and esteem in which she was held—­and when brought face to face with them was almost overcome, so that tears of joy and gratitude streamed from her aged eyes,

They were soon wiped away, however, and she was again her own bright, cheery self, full of thought and care for others—­the kindest and most genial of hostesses.

She took the head of the breakfast-table herself, and poured the coffee for her guests with her own hands, entertaining them the while with cheerful chat, and causing many a merry laugh with the old-time tripping of her tongue—­a laugh in which she always joined with hearty relish.

“There is too much butter in this salt,” she remarked.  “It is some John Hencle brought in this morning.  I must see him after breakfast and bid him caution his wife to use less.”

But as they rose from the table John came in unsummoned, and carrying a fine large goose under each arm.

Bowing low:  “I ish come to pring two gooses to de von hundredth birthday,” he announced; “dey pees goot, peaceable pirds:  I ish know dem for twenty years, and dey nefer makes no droubles.”

A smile went round the little circle, but Miss Stanhope said, with a very pleased look, “Thank you, John; they shall be well fed, and I hope they will like their new quarters.  How is Jake doing?  I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“No; Shakey is go to school most days.  I vants Shakey to knows somedings.”

“Yes, indeed; I hope Jakey is going to have a good education.  But what do you mean to do with him after he is done going to school?”

“Vy, I dinks I prings mine Shakey to town and hangs him on to Sheneral Shmicdt and makes a brinting-office out of him.”

“A printer, John?  Well, that might be a very good thing if you don’t need him to help you about the farm, or our grounds.  I should think you would, though.”

“Nein, nein,” said John, shaking his head; “’tis not so long as I vants Shakey to makes mit me a fence; put I tash!  Miss Stanhope, he say he ton’t can know how to do it; and I says, ‘I tash!  Shakey, you peen goin’ to school all your life, and you don’t know de vay to makes a fence yet.’”