“Don’t be so foolishly independent, my child.  If I gather the groups, it is only you who will be able to hold them together.  I am your manager, and it is my duty to make the accessories as perfect as possible.  When the scenery and costumes and stage-settings are complete, you enter and do the real work, I retire, and the sole responsibility for success or failure rests upon your shoulders; I should think that would be enough to satisfy the most energetic young woman.  I had decided on the library as the scene of action; an open fire is indispensable, and that room is delightfully large when the centre-table is lifted out:  but I am afraid it is hardly secluded enough, and that people might trouble you by coming in; so what do you think of the music-room upstairs?  You will have your fire, your piano, plenty of space, and a private entrance for the chicks, who can lay their wraps in the hall as they pass up.  I will take the large Turkish rug from the red guest-chamber,—­that will make the room look warmer,—­and I have a dozen other charming devices which I will give you later as surprises.”

“If I were half as sure of my part as I am of yours, dear Fairy Godmother, we should have nothing to fear.  I have a general plan mapped out for the stories, but a great deal of the work will have to be done from week to week, as I go on.  I shall use the same programme in the main for both groups, but I shall simplify everything and illustrate more freely for the little ones, telling the historical and scientific stories with much more detail to the older group.  This is what Mr. Bird calls my ‘basic idea,’ which will be filled out from week to week according to inspiration.  For November, I shall make autumn, the harvest, and Thanksgiving the starting-point.  I am all ready with my historical story of ‘The First Thanksgiving,’ for I told it at the Children’s Hospital last year, and it went beautifully.

“I have one doll dressed in Dutch costume, to show how the children looked that the little Pilgrims played with in Holland; and another dressed like a Puritan maiden, to show them the simple old New England gown.  Then I have two fine pictures of Miles Standish and the Indian chief Massasoit.

“For December and January I shall have Christmas and winter, and frost and ice and snow, with the contrasts of eastern and Californian climates.”

“I can get the Immigration Bureau to give you a percentage on that story, Polly,” said Uncle Jack Bird, who had strolled in and taken a seat.  “Just make your facts strong enough, and you can make a handsome thing out of that idea.”

“Don’t interrupt us, Jack,” said Mrs. Bird; “and go directly out, if you please.  You were not asked to this party.”

“Where was I?” continued Polly.  “Oh yes,—­the contrast between Californian and eastern winters; and January will have a moral story or two, you know,—­New Year’s resolutions, and all that.  February will be full of sentiment and patriotism,—­St. Valentine’s Day and Washington’s Birthday,—­I can hardly wait for that, there are so many lovely things to do in that month.  March will bring in the first hint of spring.  The winds will serve for my science story; and as it chances to be a presidential year, we will celebrate Inauguration Day, and have some history, if a good many subscribers come in.”