Mr. Maynard’s appearance was usually a signal for a grand rush, followed by a series of bear hugs and a general scramble, but to-night, owing to festive attire, the Maynard quartette were a little more demure.

“Look out for my hair-ribbons, King!” cried Midget, for without such warning, hair-ribbons usually felt first the effects of the good-natured scrimmage.

And then Mrs. Maynard appeared, her pretty rose-colored gown of soft silk trailing behind her on the floor.

“What a dandy mother!” exclaimed King; “all dressed up, and a flower in her hair!”

This line sounded singable to Marjorie, so she tuned up: 

    “All dressed up, and a flower in her hair,
    To give her a hug, I wouldn’t dare;
    For she would feel pretty bad, I think,
    If anything happened to that there pink!”

Then King added a refrain, and in a moment they had all joined hands and were dancing round Mrs. Maynard and singing: 

    “Hooray, hooray, for our mother fair! 
    Hooray, hooray, for the flower in her hair! 
    All over the hills and far away,
    There’s no one so sweet as Mothery May!”

Being accustomed to boisterous adulation from her children, Mrs. Maynard bore her honors gracefully, and then they all went out to dinner.

As Maiden of Honor, Kitty was escorted by her father; next came Mrs. Maynard and Kingdon, and then Marjorie and Rosy Posy.  The table had extra decorations of flowers and pink-shaded candles, and at Kitty’s place was a fascinating looking lot of tissue-papered and ribbon-tied parcels.

“Isn’t it funny,” said sedate and philosophical Kitty, “I love to go to Grandma’s, and yet I hate to leave you all, and yet, I can’t do one without doing the other!”

“’Tis strange, indeed, Kit!” agreed her father; “as Mr. Shakespeare says, ‘Yet every sweet with sour is tempered still.’  Life is like lemonade, sour and sweet both.”

“It’s good enough,” said Kitty, contentedly, looking at her array of bundles.  “I guess I’ll open these now.”

“That’s what they’re there for,” said Mrs. Maynard, so Kitty excitedly began to untie the ribbons.

“I’ll go slowly,” she said, pulling gently at a ribbon bow, “then they’ll last longer.”

“Now, isn’t that just like you, Kit!” exclaimed Marjorie.  “I’d snatch the papers off so fast you couldn’t see me jerk.”

“I know you would,” said Kitty, simply.

The sisters were very unlike, for Midget’s ways were impulsive and impatient, while Kitty was slow and careful.  But finally the papers came off, and revealed the lovely gifts.

Mrs. Maynard had made a pretty silk workbag, which could be spread out, or gathered up close on its ribbon.  When outspread, it showed a store of needles and thread, of buttons, hooks, tapes,—­everything a little girl could need to keep her clothes in order.

“Oh, Mother, it’s perfect!” cried Kitty, ecstatically.  “I love those cunning little pockets, with all sewy things in them!  And a darling silver thimble!  And a silver tape measure, and a silver-topped emery!  Oh, I do believe I’ll sew all the time this summer!”