The candlesticks on the little round table were still unlighted, but there was plenty of light to show signs of unwonted preparations. Caleb had robbed the plot of ground he called his garden ruthlessly before he filled the large, wide-mouthed jug with violet and white china asters. The display of preserves in all colors too, not to mention an astounding plum-cake with frosted edges, showed some unusual festivity. Caleb's round rosy face elongated considerably as he sat in his wooden rocking-chair, warming his hands over the blaze. "Dear, dear, she'll cry her eyes out, poor lamb, and no wonder; and such a beautiful cake too as Molly has made," he continued, disconsolately. "I wonder if the old cat would open the parcel if I sent it wrapt up in brown paper, with Caleb Runciman's kind regards to Miss Emmie. I'll lay a wager the poor little angel would never eat a crumb of it. Hark! surely that was not a knock; I dare say it is only the paper-boy." Caleb's cogitations soon came to an abrupt end. There was an exclamation of surprised dismay in Molly's loud, cheerful voice, then quick footsteps, and the entrance of two dripping figures. "My dear Miss Queenie and the precious lamb, who ever would have thought it!" cried Caleb, in a voice quite trembling with joy, but shaking his head all the time. "It will be the death of both of you. Molly! Where is that woman? Molly, it will be the death of these dear creatures if you don't make tea quick, and get off their wet things. Miss Queenie, I am surprised at you. Dear, dear, such a night. I must say I am surprised," continued Caleb, trying to speak severely, but with his blue eyes twinkling with animation. "Emmie fretted so that I was obliged to bring her," returned Queenie, apologetically. "It was wrong, I know; I have been blaming myself all the way; but what could I do?" "Now, Caleb, don't be cross, and on my birthday too," interrupted Emmie, throwing her arms round the old man's neck. "I thought of your disappointment, and the cake, and the dear old parlor, and I could not help crying; and then Queenie put on her determined face, and said I should go if she carried me. Cathy was so angry with us both, and no wonder." "No, indeed; I must say I was extremely surprised," reiterated Caleb, who never liked to lose a leading idea, and was fond of repeating his own words. "Mark my words, Miss Queenie, it will be the death of Emmie." "Nonsense, Caleb," interrupted the child; "I won't have you scold Queenie; she carried me nearly all the way, she did indeed; she said I was quite light. And she is so tired, and she made me wear her cloak, because it was long, and would cover me, and I am so warm and dry; but I know her poor feet are wet, because her boots are so thin and old, terribly old." "Oh, hush, Em; how can you?" returned her sister, blushing hotly; "you will make Caleb so unhappy."