“There’s some writing on them,” she announced.

“Then I expect that will help us guess what we are to do with them,” said Grandmother, and she adjusted her glasses.  “Let’s see what it says.”  She read off the first one, “’This is the way Mary Jane learns to sew.’  Shall we open this first, Mary Jane?” she asked, “or shall we read what the other one says?”

“Oh, I know, I know!  I know!” cried Mary Jane, clapping her hands.  “I know what that is, Grandmother, only I came away in such a hurry that I forgot all about it!  It’s a present for you—­I made it all myself!  Let’s open it first.”

“A present for me?” asked Grandmother.  “I guess we will open it first.”  And she carefully undid the string, opened out the paper and looked inside.  “A picture card!  My dear little girl!” she exclaimed, “and you did it all yourself?”

“All myself,” said Mary Jane proudly, and she leaned up against her grandmother and pointed out the perfections.  “See?  It’s a picture of a little girl, that’s me, and she’s raking her garden.  And here,” she picked up another one, “this is a picture of a butterfly that flies over the garden.  I did one of a little girl, that’s me, with a pink sunbonnet and one with a sunflower and I sent those to my Aunt Effie.  And these are for you.”

“I certainly am pleased,” said Grandmother heartily and she kissed Mary Jane once for each card.  “And what else have we here?”

“That’s my sewing things,” said Mary Jane as she opened out the rest of the package; “that’s my needle case and my thread and my cards to sew.”

“Then let’s have a sewing day,” suggested Grandmother, “and you sew your cards and I’ll do my mending.”

“But first let’s open the other bundle,” suggested Mary Jane, who, like Grandmother, had forgotten it for the minute.  “I don’t know what it’s got inside.”

“We’ll see,” said Grandmother, and she read on the outside, “’I wish I had more.’”

“That’s funny,” said Mary Jane, “more what?”

“Wait and see,” replied Grandmother, and Mary Jane noticed that her eyes twinkled.  “She needn’t have worried, I have plenty.”  And she undid the bundle.

“Why!  Why—­how funny!” exclaimed Mary Jane when she saw what the bundle contained.  “That isn’t anything!  Why did Mother send those?  They’re just scraps.”

“Not scraps, dear,” said Grandmother, and, much to Mary Jane’s surprise, she seemed very pleased, “pieces.  They’re pieces for a quilt.  Your mother always was crazy about my quilts.”

“But those aren’t quilts,” insisted Mary Jane.  “Those are just rolls out of the scrap bag—­I’ve seen them there.  That’s a piece of my rompers,” she added, pointing to a roll of blue, “and that’s my best pink gingham, and that’s Alice’s new school dress.”

“So much the better,” laughed Grandmother.  “When you know what things are from, your quilt is more interesting.  Let’s put these on the bed while you come with me to the linen room and see what a quilt is.”