"First," she said, "he clawed out a lot of papers and stuff. Ugh! It was horrid to feel everything sliding right out from under me--I didn't know _how_ far I was going to drop. Then he grabbed my two ankles and just jerked me out on the bias through the little door at the bottom. I suppose it was a lot quicker. But he _didn't_ need to make me climb all that coal." "Yes, he did," returned Jean. "The cornice on the other three sides was all loose and flopping up and down in the flames. Pieces kept falling. The coal-bin side was the last to burn--the wind went the other way--and Miss Bonner's room was the last to catch fire." "That Janitor," declared Mrs. Crane, with conviction, "knew exactly what he was about. Now, girls, you'll be sure to come to-morrow, won't you? I think it will do Rosa Marie good and there's a reason why I'd like a little company myself, but I shan't tell you just now what it is." "Oh, do," begged all four. "No," returned Mrs. Crane. "It's a secret, and not a living soul knows it but me. I'll tell you to-morrow." "We'll _surely_ come," promised the girls. Of course they kept their promise. The four Cottagers arrived very soon after breakfast, were let in most sedately by Mr. Black's man, who smiled when the unceremonious visitors rushed pell-mell past him to fall upon Mrs. Crane, who was watering plants in the breakfast room. "Tell us the secret!" shouted Mabel. "Oh--I mean good-morning!" "Good-morning," smiled Mrs. Crane, setting the watering pot in a safe place. "The secret isn't a very big one. It's only that to-day is my birthday and I thought I'd like to have a party. You're it. The cook is making me a birthday cake, but she doesn't know that it is a birthday cake." "Goody!" cried Mabel. "Doesn't Mr. Black know it's your birthday?" queried Jean. "I don't think so. You see, it's a long time since Peter and I spent birthdays under the same roof, and men don't remember such things very well. We'll surprise him with the cake to-night. Now let's go to the nursery." Rosa Marie's dull countenance brightened at sight of her four friends. She gave four solemn little bobs with her head. "Mercy!" cried Marjory, "she's learning manners." "And see," said Bettie, "she's stringing beads." "That's a surprise," said Mrs. Crane, proudly. "I taught her that." "Fourteen," said Rosa Marie, unexpectedly. "Goodness me!" cried Mabel. "Can she count?" "Ye-es," admitted Mrs. Crane, guardedly, "but not to depend on. In fact, fourteen is the only counting word she _can_ say. Peter taught her that." "Fourteen," repeated Rosa Marie, holding up her string of beads. "You ridiculous baby!" laughed Mabel, hugging her. "Who are the pretty beads for?" Rosa Marie hurriedly clapped the string about her own brown throat. "No, no," remonstrated Mrs. Crane. "You're making them for Mabel." But Rosa Marie set her small white teeth firmly together and continued to hold the beads against her own plump neck.