“Why, Roddy, your candy is gone!” announced Sister in surprise.  “When did you eat it?”

Brother came up to her where she stood by the table of presents.

“I didn’t eat it,” he said wonderingly.  “I left it right there on top of that book.  Isn’t that funny!”

“Well, it’s gone,” asserted Sister.  “Someone ate it!”

Winifred had heard, and now she turned on the unfortunate Charlie.

“Charles Eldridge Raynor!” she said sternly.  “Did you eat Roddy’s candy that you brought him?  Did you?”

Charlie nodded miserably.  He had slipped into the room, unnoticed during the peanut hunt, and unable to longer withstand the temptation, had calmly eaten up his birthday gift.

“I hope,” stammered Winifred with very red cheeks, “I hope you will excuse him, Mrs. Morrison.  I never knew him to do such a thing before!”

“Oh, it isn’t anything so very dreadful,” declared Mother Morrison, smiling.  “Any laddie with a sweet tooth might easily do the same thing.  Come, children, Grace is waiting to play for you.”

They played “Going to Jerusalem” and “Drop the Handkerchief,” and all the time there was the mysterious fishpond back of the table!  But they could not fish till after they had had ice cream.

As they were playing a noisy game of “Tag” out on the lawn, Molly came to the door to ask them to come into the dining-room.

Such a pretty table met their eyes!  It seemed to be all blue and white, and in the center was the big birthday cake—­iced as only Molly could ice it, and showing no trace of the starch Sister had tried to cover it with.  Six candles twinkled merrily on the top.

“Make six wishes, Brother,” said Mother Morrison.

“Then he blows, and as many candles as he blows out he will have wishes come true,” explained Sister quaintly.

Brother made his wishes—­they must not be spoken aloud—­and then took a deep breath.

Pouf!  Three of the candles went out

“Three wishes!” shouted the children.  “You’ll have three wishes come true!”

It was a lovely birthday supper.  Everyone said so.  They had chicken sandwiches, and cocoa, and vanilla and strawberry ice-cream, and of course the birthday cake, which Brother cut in slices himself with the big silver cake knife.

“Why—­look!” ejaculated Sister in surprise, glancing up from her cake at the doorway.

Mother Morrison stood there, smiling, and in her hands she carried what seemed to be a very large pudding or pie baked in a milk pan.

“What is it?” said Brother curiously.  “What is it?”

“It’s a secret,” answered his mother mysteriously.  “Grandmother Hastings planned it for you.”

“And you and Louise bought part of it,” Grandmother Hastings assured him, nodding and smiling from the other doorway, the one that led into the hall.

She had come over, in her prettiest white and lavender gown, to see the end of the party.