“It’s for you, chickabiddy, and if you’d like to go up there I’ll show you a way.”

Uncle Steve stepped over to the double trunk, and reaching up pulled down something, which proved to be a weight hung on the end of a long cord.  The cord reached up to the veranda of the little house.

“Here,” said Uncle Steve, as he put the weight into Marjorie’s hand, “this is perhaps as useful a birthday gift as the key I gave you.  Pull hard, and see what happens.”

Marjorie pulled hard, and as she pulled, a rope ladder came tumbling down from the edge of the little porch.  It was a queer-looking ladder, the sides being of rope and the rounds of wood, while the top seemed to be securely fastened to the veranda floor.

“There you are,” said Uncle Steve; “there’s your birthday gift, and all you have to do is to skip up there, unlock the door, and take possession.”

But instead of doing this, Marjorie, with a squeal of delight, threw her arms around Uncle Steve’s neck.

“You dear, old, blessed uncle!” she cried.  “I understand it all now; but truly I couldn’t think how we were ever going to get up there.  It’s a lovely surprise, the best I ever had!  You are so good to me, and Grandma, too!”

Having nearly squeezed the breath out of Uncle Steve, Marjorie left him, and flying over to Grandma, treated her to a similar demonstration.  And then, with her precious key tightly clasped in her hand, she started to climb the rather wabbly ladder.  Impetuous Molly was crazy to follow, but Uncle Steve declared that it was the law of the house that there must never be more than one on the ladder at a time.

Though Marjorie became accustomed to it afterward, it was not an easy matter to climb the rope ladder for the first time; but under Uncle Steve’s direction she began to learn the trick of it, and safely reached the top.  Agile Molly scrambled up as if she had been used to rope ladders all her life; but to timid Stella the climbing seemed an impossible feat.  But Uncle Steve held the ladder firmly at the bottom, and Marjorie encouraged her from the top, while Molly threw herself flat on the porch and reached down a helping hand.

At last the three girls were safely on the little veranda, and the sensation was as delightful as it was strange.  To sit on the little benches, high above the ground, and look out straight across the meadow; and then, turning to either side, to see the great limbs and branches of the old maple-trees, was indeed a fairy-tale experience.

Over the door swung a quaint little old-fashioned signboard, on which in gilt letters were the words “Breezy Inn.”

With bewildering anticipations of further delight, Marjorie took her little key and unlocked the door.

Grandma and Uncle Steve, watching from below, heard shouts of joy as the girls disappeared through the doorway.

But in a moment they reappeared at the windows, and their beaming faces told the tale of their happiness.