“He won't. He thinks you are the most WONDERFUL man in the world--he told Mr. Kelsey so; I heard him--and he won't refuse you anything--oh, Uncle Felix”--both arms were around his neck now, always her last argument--“I do so want a birthday party and I want it right here in this room.” Felix smoothed back the hair from her pleading eyes and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. For a moment there was silence between them, he continuing to smooth back her hair, she cuddling the tighter, her usual way. She always let him think a while and it always came out right. But he had made up his mind. It had been years since a birthday of his own had been celebrated; nor had he ever helped, so far as he could recollect, to celebrate the birthday of any child. Yes, Masie should have her birthday, if he could bring it about, and it should be the happiest of all her life. Suddenly he rose, releasing his neck from her grasp, and ran his eyes around the almost bare interior--the big chair being the only article, so far, in place. “It will make a grand banquet hall, Masie,” he said, as if speaking more to himself than to her. “Let me see!” He walked half the length of the floor and began studying the walls and the bare rafters of the ceiling. These last had once been yellow-washed, age and dust having turned the kalsomine to an old-gold tint, reminding him of a ceiling belonging to a Venetian palace. “Yes,” he continued, with the same abstracted air, his head upturned, “there's a good place for hanging a big lamp, if there is one in the new lot, and there are spots where I can hang twenty or more smaller ones. I will cover the side walls with stuffs and embroideries and put those long Italian settees against--yes, Tweety-kins, it will come out all right. It will make a splendid banquet hall! And after the party we will leave it just so. Fine, my child! And I have an idea, too--a brilliant idea. Hans, ask Mr. Kling to be good enough to come up here!” With the surrender of her Uncle Felix, Masie resumed her spinning around the room and kept it up until the father's bald head showed clear above the top of the stairs. “Masie has had one brilliant idea, Mr. Kling, and I have another. I will tell you mine first.” It was wonderful how thoroughly he understood the Dutchman. “Vell, vot is it?” Otto had sniffed something unusual in the atmosphere and was on the defensive. When there was only one to deal with he sometimes had his way; never when they were leagued together.