“I knew she was a little lady by the way she pretended not to notice our poor things,” said old Zeb.

“I knew by her petticoats,” said his wife.

* * * * *

And so the episode of Marjorie’s runaway passed into history.  Mrs. Maynard, at first, wanted to give up her part in the play of “The Stepmother,” but she was urged by all to retain it, and so she did.  As Mr. Maynard said, it was the merest coincidence that Marjorie overheard the words without knowing why they were spoken, and there was no possibility of such a thing ever happening again.  So Mrs. Maynard kept her part in the pretty little comedy, but she never repeated those sentences that had so appalled poor Marjorie, without a thrill of sorrow for the child and a thrill of gladness for her quick and safe restoration to them.

And the days hurried on, bringing Marjorie’s birthday nearer and nearer.

On the fifteenth of July she would be thirteen years old.

“You see,” said Cousin Jack, who was, as usual, Director General of the celebration, “you see, Mehitabel, thirteen is said to be an unlucky number.”

“And must I be unlucky all the year?” asked Marjorie, in dismay.

“On the contrary, my child.  We will eradicate the unluck from the number,—­we will cut the claws of the tiger,—­and draw the fangs of the serpent.  In other words, we shall so override and overrule that foolish superstition about thirteen being unlucky that we shall prove the contrary.”

“Hooray for you, Cousin Jack!  I’m lucky to have you around for this particular birthday, I think.”

“You’re always lucky, Mehitabel, and you always will be.  You see, this business they call Luck is largely a matter of our own will-power and determination.  Now, I propose to consider thirteen a lucky number, and before your birthday is over, you’ll agree with me, I know.”

“I ’spect I shall, Cousin Jack.  And I’m much obliged to you.”

“That’s right, Mehitabel.  Always be grateful to your elders.  They do a lot for you.”

“You needn’t laugh, Cousin Jack.  You’re awful good to me.”

“Good to myself, you mean.  Not having any olive-branches of my own, I have to play with my neighbors’.  As I understand it, Mehitabel, you’re to have a party on this birthday of yours.”

“Yes, sir-ee, sir!  Mother says I can invite as many as I like.  You know there are lots of girls and boys down here that I know, but I don’t know them as well as I do the Craigs and Hester.  But at a party, I’ll ask them all.”

“All right.  Now, this is going to be a Good-Luck Party, to counteract that foolish thirteen notion.  You don’t need to know all about the details.  Your mother and I will plan it all, and you can just be the lucky little hostess.”

So Marjorie was not admitted to the long confabs between her mother and Cousin Jack.  She didn’t mind, for she knew perfectly well that delightful plans were being made for the party, and they would all be carried out.  But there was much speculation in Sand Court as to what the fun would be.