Her laughing face peered at him over the rough old logs. "Not so you'd notice it!" "I reckon I ought to thump you sixteen times and one to grow on. But that would make it necessary to climb the fence. How would you like kisses instead?" "Give me the big one to grow on, anyway." She held up her lips. "And now I must run in to Grandmother,--she must have the next." She found the Senora waiting for her in the living-room. "I'm so glad you're alone, Grandmother. I wanted you all to myself for a minute or two." She went straight into the arms Grandmother held out to her, was folded close for a moment and received a second kiss "to grow on." [Illustration: "IT WAS AN EXQUISITE MINIATURE, PAINTED ON IVORY."] "While we're alone I want to tell you something," Blue Bonnet said earnestly, "--about this last year, I mean. I never have said just what I've felt. It has been the best of all years, Grandmother, and the best of all the good things it has brought me--is you." "Thank you, dear. And you must know, Blue Bonnet, without my telling you how great a comfort you are to me." "Truly, Grandmother,--a comfort?" "Beyond words, dear." And Grandmother gave her another kiss to grow on. "And now, Blue Bonnet, here is something for your birthday." Blue Bonnet took the dainty package and unwrapped it with fingers that trembled a little. Within the paper was a box, and inside that, looking out from a frame of dull Roman gold, was her mother's face. It was an exquisite miniature, painted on ivory. The rose-tints of the flesh and the deep tender blue of the eyes that smiled up at her, made the portrait seem a living thing. Blue Bonnet could not speak. She gazed and gazed at the dear features until her eyes blurred and she had to put up her hand to brush the tears away. "Oh, Grandmother--!" Her lip quivered and she could say no more. But Grandmother understood. "Your aunt had it done from a photograph while she was in Rome. The painter was a Boston woman--an old friend of ours who knew your mother, Blue Bonnet. That is why the coloring is so true. The eyes are your eyes--can't you see, dear?" "Am I truly like her?" "So like, Blue Bonnet, that sometimes it seems as if Elizabeth had never left me." "I'm glad, Grandmother. Oh, how I shall treasure this! How can I ever thank you and Aunt Lucinda? There come the others,--I think I won't show them this just now. I'd rather let them see it one at a time. Somehow a crowd--" "I understand, Blue Bonnet." It was well that she and her grandmother had made the most of that quiet five minutes before breakfast; for it was the last peaceful moment that day. As all the gay party trooped into the dining-room with its long table looking like a real banquet board, a big floral decoration was the first thing to greet all eyes. A long low basket of closely woven fibres formed a centrepiece, and inside it, growing so densely that only a vivid mass of blue showed above the brim, were blue bonnets in bloom.