When dinner was announced, Mr. Maynard, with Marjorie, led the procession to the diningroom.  They were followed by Mrs. Maynard and Rosamond, and after them came Kingdon and Kitty.

Kitty was a golden-haired little girl, quite in contrast to Marjorie, who had tangled masses of dark, curly hair and large, dark eyes.  Her cheeks were round and rosy, and her little white teeth could almost always be seen, for merry Marjorie was laughing most of the time.  To-night she wore one of her prettiest white dresses, and her dark curls were clustered at the top of her head into a big scarlet bow.  The excitement of the occasion made her cheeks red and her eyes bright, and Mrs. Maynard looked at her pretty eldest daughter with a pardonable pride.

“Midge,” she said, “there are just about a hundred things I ought to tell you before you go to Grandma’s, but if I were to tell you now, you wouldn’t remember one of them; so I have written them all down, and you must take the list with you, and read it every morning so that you may remember and obey the instructions.”

Midge was one of the numerous nicknames by which Marjorie was called.  Her tumbling, curly hair, which was everlastingly escaping from its ribbon, had gained for her the title of Mops or Mopsy.  Midge and Midget had clung to her from babyhood, because she was an active and energetic child, and so quick of motion that she seemed to dart like a midge from place to place.  She never did anything slowly.  Whether it was an errand for her mother or a game of play, Midge always moved rapidly.  Her tasks were always done in half the time it took the other children to do theirs; but in consequence of this haste, they were not always done as well or as thoroughly as could be desired.

This, her mother often told her, was her besetting sin, and Marjorie truly tried to correct it when she thought of it; but often she was too busy with the occupation in hand to remember the good instructions she had received.

“I’m glad you did that, Mother,” she replied to her mother’s remark, “for I really haven’t time to study the list now.  But I’ll promise to read it over every morning at Grandma’s, and honest and true, I’ll try to be good.”

“Of course you will,” said her father, heartily; “you’ll be the best little girl in the world, except the two you leave here behind you.”

“Me’s the bestest,” calmly remarked Rosamond, who seemed especially satisfied with herself that evening.

“You are,” agreed King; “you look good enough to eat, to-night.”

Rosamond beamed happily, for she was not unused to flattering observations from the family.  And, indeed, she was a delicious-looking morsel of humanity, as she sat in her high chair, and tried her best to “behave like a lady.”

The table was decorated with June roses and daisies.  The dinner included Marjorie’s favorite dishes, and the dessert was strawberries and ice cream, which, Kitty declared, always made a party, anyway.