“I know I forget sometimes,” said Nimpo, penitently.  “But I’ll try really to be careful, this time.”

“Wal,” said Mrs. Primkins, in conclusion, as she folded her knitting and brought out the bed-room candles, “if you don’t hector me nigh about to death, I’ll lose my guess!  But as I’m in for ’t now, you may’s well bring the girls when you come home from school to-morrow.  Then you’ll have time to play before supper, for their mothers’ll want them home before dark.”

“Do you care who I invite?” asked Nimpo, pausing with the door open on her way to bed.

“No, I do’ know’s I do.  Your intimate friends, your Ma said.”

“Oh, goody!” said Nimpo, as she skipped upstairs, two at a time.  “Wont we have fun!  How nice it’ll be!”

The next morning she was off, bright and early, and, before the bell rang, every girl in the school knew that Nimpo was going to have a birthday-party, and was wondering if she would be invited.  At recess, she issued her invitations, every one of which was promptly accepted; and in the afternoon all came in their best dresses, ready to go home with Nimpo.

At four o’clock, they were dismissed, and Nimpo marshaled her guests and started.  Now, the truth was, that the girls had been so very lovely to her when she was inviting, that she found it hard to distinguish between intimate friends and those not quite so intimate, so she had asked more than she realized till she saw them started up the street.  However, she had not been limited as to numbers, so she gave herself no concern, as she gayly led the way.

Meanwhile, the Primkins family had been busy.  After the morning work was done, Mrs. Primkins and her daughter Augusta made a loaf of plain, wholesome cake, a couple of tins of biscuits, and about the same number of cookies with caraway-seeds in them.  After dinner, they carried a table into the back chamber and spread the feast.  Nimpo’s mother had sent, as a birthday-present, a new set of toy dishes.  It had arrived by stage while Nimpo was at school, and been carefully concealed from her; and Augusta, who had not yet forgotten that she was once young (though it was many years before), thought it would be nice to serve the tea on these dishes.  Not being able to think of any serious objection, and seeing advantage in the small pieces required to fill them, Mrs. Primkins had consented, and Augusta had arranged a very pretty table, all with its white and gilt china.  The biscuits and cookies were cut small to match, and, when ready, it looked very cunning, with tiny slices of cake, and one little dish of jelly—­from the top shelf in Mrs. Primkins’ pantry.

During the afternoon, a boy came up from the store (Nimpo’s father was a country merchant) with a large basket, in which were several pounds of nuts and raisins and candy, which her father had ordered by letter.

Everything was prepared, and Mrs. Primkins had put on a clean checked apron, to do honor to the occasion, and sat down in her rocker, feeling that she had earned her rest, when Augusta’s voice sounded from upstairs:  “Ma, do look down street!”