There were busy days next week. Hazel drilled the little country children, who looked shyly at her and understood nothing of what she was saying. Hazel called them stupid many times in her heart and sometimes with her lips, but they were only unfamiliar with all that she was trying to put into their lives. But one thing was sure. They could sing the birthday verse. “Here’s a little box for you, honey,” Granny said one morning, handing Hazel a package. “Come by the post,” and she eyed it curiously. “It’s--it’s a secret just now,” Hazel stammered. “A secret? Well, child, don’t you tell it until you is good and ready,” and Granny went to her work in the garden. In her room Hazel opened the box. It contained six dozen little candles, pink and green and blue and yellow and white. Just what she wanted. Mother always did exactly right. But now, most difficult of all, to make the cake! Granny loved to cook in the old way over the fire, but she had a stove in an outhouse which she used now that the warm weather had come. If Hazel could get access to this, without Granny’s knowing it, she would make and try to bake the cake. At home she did the mixing and her mother the baking. But would Granny go away long enough for her to do her work? There was the great difficulty. On the day after the candles came, however, it was solved. “Aunt Ellen,” a breathless boy called, rushing into the cabin in the morning, “Ma’s sick and wants you.” And Aunt Ellen went at once and left Hazel alone. When the cake was baked and frosted Hazel looked at it with mingled delight and distrust. It had risen, but had it not fallen since? She must not taste it to find out. It was made of sugar and flour and eggs and it had been beaten until her hand and arm were first prickly, and then stiff with fatigue. It ought to be light. And anyway it was round and had white icing; certainly it was a beautiful _looking_ birthday cake. Hazel put it carefully in the bottom of her trunk. The party she decided should be on the morrow. “What is the matter with you, child?” Granny said the next day as they sat down to dinner. “You’s as restless as a bird, and you ain’t eating more’n a bird would eat.” “Ain’t you going to teach Scip?” she said later, when Hazel failed to take her books and papers and climb the hill. “Scip can’t come to-day, Granny, he said so. Let me help you.” And Hazel began to straighten things in the room. “Can’t we sweep a little?” The old woman was clearly puzzled but she helped Hazel with the work. “Let’s dress up and pretend it’s Christmas,” Hazel exclaimed when three o’clock came. “I’ll put on my white dress and you put on your new calico.” “I’s got to work, child,” Granny said a little severely.