“Fine!  Now, you see, we’ll paste all these on this page and anything more if you have it, and then every time you look at this page you can just seem to see that whole trip, can’t you?”

“Yes,” said Marjorie, who was becoming absorbedly interested in this new game; “and here’s the time-table, Uncle:  but that isn’t very pretty and it’s so big.  Oh, and here’s the card, the bill of fare, you know, that we had in the dining-car.  See, it has a picture on it.”

“Why, Midget, it isn’t considered exactly good form to carry the menu away with you; but it’s really no crime, and since you have it, we’ll put it in.  As to the time-table, we’ll just cut out this part that includes the stations at the beginning and end of your trip.  See?”

“Oh, yes, indeed I do!  And what a beautiful page!” Marjorie breathlessly watched as Uncle Steve arranged the souvenirs harmoniously on the big page and pasted them neatly in their places.  Then, taking from his pocket a box of colored pencils, he printed at the top of the page, in ornate letters, the date and the occasion.  Uncle Steve was an adept at lettering, and the caption was an additional ornament to the already attractive page.

Thus they went on through the book.  Sometimes a page was devoted to a special occasion, and again many scattered mementoes were grouped together.  It seemed as if every pleasure Marjorie had had since she came, had produced something attractive for her book.

A fancy lace paper represented the big box of bonbons that her father had sent her when she had her sprained ankle.  Many photographs there were, for Marjorie had learned to use her camera pretty well, and Uncle Steve sometimes took snap-shots of the children with his own larger camera.  There were several little pictures that Stella had painted for her, an old tintype that Grandma had given her, a feather from the tail of Marjorie’s pet rooster, and many such trifles, each of which brought up a host of memories of pleasant or comical situations.

The sprained-ankle episode filled up several pages.  For there were the letters that Marjorie had received from the animals, and other notes and pictures that had been sent to her, and many mementoes of those long days she had spent in bed.  The beautiful book Uncle Steve had brought her at that time was suggested by its title, cut from the paper wrapper which had been on the book when it came.  Indeed, it seemed that there was no end to the ingenious ways of remembering things that Marjorie wanted to remember.  A tiny, bright bird feather would recall the walk she took with Grandma one afternoon; a pressed wild flower was an eloquent reminder of Blossom Banks; and a large strawberry hull, neatly pasted into place, Marjorie insisted upon to remind her of the day when she said “Boo” to Stella.

Several pages were devoted to souvenirs from home, and Rosy Posy’s illegible scrawls were side by side with neatly-written postcards from her parents.