When Nan and her sisters woke on the morning of the memorable day, the bright sunshine of a cloudless June day set all their fears at rest. If the sun smiled on Dick's fete, all would be well. If Nan's devotions were longer than usual that morning, no one was the wiser; if she added a little clause, calling down a blessing on a certain head, no one would be the poorer for such pure prayers; indeed, it were well if many such were uttered for the young men who go forth morning after morning into the temptations of life. Such prayers might stretch like an invisible shield before the countless foes that environ such a one; fiery darts may be caught upon it; a deadly thrust may be turned away. What if the blessing would never reach the ear of the loved one, who goes out unconscious of sympathy? His guardian angel has heard it, and perchance it has reached the very gate of heaven. Nan came down, smiling and radiant, to find Dick waiting for her in the veranda and chattering to Phillis and Dulce. "Why, Dick!" she cried, blushing with surprise and pleasure, "to think of your being here on your birthday morning!" "I only came to thank you and the girls for your lovely presents," returned Dick, becoming rather incoherent and red at the sight of Nan's blush. "It was so awfully good of you all, to work all those things for me;" for Nan had taken secret measurements in Dick's room, and had embroidered a most exquisite mantelpiece valance, and Phillis and Dulce had worked the corners of a green cloth with wonderful daffodils and bulrushes to cover Dick's shabby table: and Dick's soul had been filled with ravishment at the sight of these gifts. Nan would not let him go on, but all the same his happy face delighted her. "No, don't thank us, we liked doing it," she returned, rather coolly. "You know we owed you something after all your splendid hospitality, and work is never any trouble to us." "But I never saw anything I liked better," blurted out Dick. "All the fellows will be jealous of me. I am sure I don't know what Hamilton will say. It was awfully good of you, Nan, and so it was of the others: and if I don't make it up to you somehow, my name is not Dick:" and he smiled round at them as he spoke. "Fancy putting in all those stitches for me!" he thought to himself. "We are so glad you are pleased," returned Nan, with one of her sweet, straightforward looks; "that is what we wanted to give you,--a little surprise on your birthday. Now you must tell us about your other presents." And Dick, nothing loath, launched into eloquent descriptions of the silver-fitted dressing-case from his mother, and the gun and thorough-bred collie that had been his father's gifts.