_ "The last day of October!" said the Sun to himself,--"the last day of
my favorite month, and the birthday of my little namesake! See if I
don't make the most of it!"
So the Sun called to all the winds and all the breezes, who, poor
things! had but just gone to bed after a terrible night's work,
ordering them to get up directly, and sweep the sky as clear as a
bell; and bid all the clouds, whether big white mountains, little
pinky islands, sweeping mares'-tails, or freckled mackerel-back, to
put themselves out of the way, and keep out of it until November;
when, as the Sun remarked with a sigh, they would have it all their
own way.
"And as soon as that job's done," continued he, "you may go to bed
again in the Mountains of the Moon; for you will only disturb me if
you are about."
So the winds, grumbling and sighing a little, went to their work;
and the Sun, after a good dip in the Atlantic Ocean, began to roll
up the eastern sky, flecking the waves with diamond spray, touching
up the gay-colored leaves still clinging to the forest-trees,
blazing on the town and city clocks to let every one know how late
it was, and finally thrusting his saucy glances into all the windows
to see how many persons had needed him.
"Come, come, you city-folks!" cried the Sun. "Your neighbors in the
country were up before I was, and have eaten their breakfasts, and
half cleared it away by this time; and here are you just beginning
to dress yourselves! Hurry up, I say! hurry up! It is the last day
of October, don't you know? and to-morrow will be November.
"But, at the corner house of a handsome square, the Sun found
himself better satisfied; for through the windows of the dining-room
he saw a lady and gentleman seated at the table, having apparently
almost finished their breakfast.
"That is better," remarked the Sun: and, thrusting one of his
slender golden fingers through the window, he touched the stag's
head upon the cover of the silver coffee-pot; glanced off, and
sparkled in the cut glass of the goblets and egg-glasses; flickered
across the white and gilt china; pierced the fiery heart of the
diamond upon the first finger of the lady's left hand, and then,
creeping swiftly up her white throat, played joyously in her golden
curls, and even darted into her soft blue eyes, making them sparkle
as brilliantly as the diamond.
"The sun shines directly in your face, Fanny," said Mr. Legrange,
admiring the color in his wife's hair. "Shall I lower the shade?"
"Oh, no! thank you. I never want the sunshine shut out," replied
she, moving her chair a little.
"Not to-day of all days in the year, I suppose; not on the birthday
of our little Sunshine. And where is she?" asked Mr. Legrange, half
turning his chair from the table to the fire, and unfolding the damp
newspaper beside his plate.
"I told Susan to send her down as soon as she had done her
breakfast. Hark! I hear her." And the Sun, drawing his finger across
the mother's lips, helped them to so bright a smile, that her
husband said,--
"I am afraid we have more than our share of Sunshine, or at least
that I have, little wife."
The bright smile grew so bright as the lady bent a little toward her
husband, that the Sun whispered,--
"There's no need of sun here, I plainly see," but, for all that,
crept farther into the room; while the door opened, and in skipped a
little girl, who might have been taken for the beautiful lady at the
head of the table suddenly diminished to childish proportions, and
dressed in childish costume, but with all her beauty intensified by
the condensation: for the blue eyes were as large and clear, and
even deeper in their tint; the clustering hair was of a brighter
gold; and the fair skin pearlier in its whiteness, and richer in its
rosiness; while the gay exuberance of life, glowing and sparkling
from every curve and dimple of the child's face and figure, was,
even in the happy mother's face, somewhat dimmed by the shadows that
still must fall upon every life past its morning, be it never so
happy, or never so prosperous.
"Morning, mamma and papa. It's my birthday; and I'm six years
old,--six, six years old! One, two, three, four, five, six years old!
Susan told them all to me, and Susan said she guessed papa didn't
forgotten it. She didn't forgotten it; and see!"
The child held up a gay horn of sugar-plums fluttering with ribbons,
and then, hugging it to her breast with one hand, plunged the other
in, and offered a little fistful of the comfits, first to her
father, and then to her mother. Both smilingly declined the treat,
explaining that they had but just done breakfast: and the young
lady, dropping some back into the horn, thrust the rest into her own
mouth, saying, "So has I; but I like candy all the day."
"Come here, you little Sunshine," said Mr. Legrange, drawing her
toward him. "So Susie thought I hadn't forgotten your birthday, eh?
Well, do you know what they always do to people on their birthdays?"
"Give 'em presents," replied the child promptly, as she desperately
swallowed the mouthful of candy.
"Ho, ho! that's it is it? No; but, besides that, they always pull
their ears as many times as they are years old. Now, then, don't you
wish I had forgotten it?"
Sunshine's eyes grew a little larger, and travelled swiftly toward
her mother's face, coming back to her father's with a smile.
"I don't believe you'd hurt me much, papa," said she, nestling close
to his side.
The father folded her tightly in his arms, lifting her to a seat
upon his knee.
"I don't believe I would, little Sunshine. Well, then, sometimes,
instead of pinches, they give little girls as many kisses as they
are years old. How will that do?"
The rosy mouth, gathering for a kiss, answered without words; but
Mr. Legrange, taking the dimpled face between his hands, said,--
"No, no! we must go on deliberately. One for the forehead, two for
the eyes,--that makes three; one for each cheek makes five; and now
the last and best for the lips makes six. Next year, there will be
another for the chin, and, after that, one in each ear: won't that
be nice?"
"And mamma? Hasn't Sunshine any kisses for her this morning?" asked
Mrs. Legrange.
The child slid from her father's knee to the floor, and, with her
arms round her mother's neck, whispered,--
"I'll give mamma all these kisses papa just gave me, and some more
too."
And for a minute or two it would have been hard to say to which head
the showery golden curls belonged, or which pair of lips was the
kisser's, and which the kissed; while the Sun fairly danced with
delight as he wrapped the two in a beautiful golden mantle woven of
his choicest beams.
Mr. Legrange looked on, laughing, for a moment, and then said,--
"So Susan told you people get presents on their birthdays, did she,
'Toinette?"
"Yes, papa;" and the child, half turning from her mother, but still
clinging round her neck, looked at her father roguishly.
"And I guess you knew it before, and didn't forgotten about it, did
you, papa?" asked she.
"Well, yes, I believe I have heard something of the kind," said Mr.
Legrange, gravely considering; "but, dear me! did you expect me to
make you a present?"
'Toinette's face grew rather blank; and a sudden impulse turned down
the corners of her mouth with a little tremble across the lips. But
the instinct of native refinement and delicacy overcame the
disappointment; and, coming to her father's side, the child put her
hand in his with a brave little smile, saying,--
"It's no matter, papa dear. I've got ever so many pretty things up
in the nursery; and Susan gave me the candy."
Mr. Legrange looked at his wife.
"Your own child, Fanny. O Sunshine, Sunshine! what are you coming to
by and by? But bless me! what is this in the pocket of my
dressing-gown? Let me take it out, lest it should hurt you when I
set you in my lap again. Funny-looking little box, isn't it?"
As he spoke, Mr. Legrange laid upon the table a long, flat box of
red morocco, with some gilt letters upon the top.
"Yes, papa. What's in the box?" asked 'Toinette, still with a little
effort.
"What do you think, Sunshine?"
"I guess it's some cigars, papa."
"It would make a good cigar-case, to be sure; but you know I have
one already, and mamma says I ought not to have any. Let us peep in,
and see what else the box would be good for besides cigars."
He unfastened the little hooks holding down the cover as he spoke,
and placed the casket in 'Toinette's hands. She raised the lid, and
uttered a low cry; while her face flushed scarlet with surprise and
pleasure.
Upon the white satin lining, lay two bracelets of coral cameos,
linked with gold, and fastened by a broad golden clasp.
"Are they pretty?" asked Mr. Legrange, smiling at the eager little
face upraised to his.
"Oh! they are lovely pretty. O papa! oh! is they?"--
"Yes they are yours, Sunshine. Mamma said you had been begging for
some bracelets like Minnie Wall's; and so, as I had heard that
people sometimes liked presents on their birthdays, and as I had not
forgotten when Sunshine's came, I thought I would bring her a pair."
The excess of 'Toinette's rapture would not allow of speech; but
Mrs. Legrange, peeping over her shoulder, exclaimed,--
"Why, Paul! those are not what I asked you to get. I told you common
coral beads, strung on elastic, and fastened with a little snap."
"But these were so much prettier, my dear, and will be of some value
when she grows up, as the others would not. At any rate, they are
marked: so we must keep them now. See!"
Mr. Legrange touched a tiny spring; and the upper part of the clasp,
opening upon a hinge, showed a plate beneath, engraved with the
name, "Antoinette Legrange."
"Yes: they are certainly very handsome; and 'Toinette must be as
careful of them as possible. They will be just right to loop up her
sleeves while she is so little, and, when she is older, to wear as
bracelets," said Mrs. Legrange admiringly.
"I may wear them this afternoon at my party, mayn't I, mamma?" asked
'Toinette, trying to clasp one upon her little arm.
"Oh, we are to have a party, are we!" exclaimed Mr. Legrange raising
his eyebrows in dismay.
"Just half a dozen children to play with 'Toinette, and to go home
after a nursery-tea," explained his wife.
"Oh, well! I shall be a little late to dinner, very likely: so it
will all be over when I arrive. Shall I bring Tom Burroughs home
with me to dine?"
"I want Cousin Tommy to come to my party, papa. Tell him to come,
please, and Sunshine's love."
"Your party, chick? Why! he would be Gulliver among the Liliputians.
He would tread on a dozen of the guests at the first step, and never
know it."
"I don't think he would, papa; and he's my little wife, and I want
him," persisted 'Toinette.
"No, no, dear," interposed Mrs. Legrange. "Cousin Tom wouldn't want
to come, and my little girl mustn't tease."
"No, mamma; but he's my little wife," murmured 'Toinette, going back
to her bracelets with a shadow of disappointment in the curve of her
pretty mouth.
"If mamma is willing, I will ask Cousin Tom, and he can do as he
likes about accepting," said the fond father, watching his
Sunshine's face.
Mamma smiled roguishly, murmuring,--"'So long as a woman's possessed
of a tear, She'll always have her own way;'" and then, added aloud,--
"Just as you like, of course, papa; but here is Susan, ready to take
'Toinette for her walk."
The dining-room door opened softly, and a fresh, pretty-looking
nursery-maid stepped in, saying
"Is Miss 'Toinette ready to come up stairs, ma'am?"
Yes, Susan. You may take the bracelets, pet; but, when you go out,
leave them in the drawer of your bureau."
"Yes, mamma. Good-by, mamma and papa; and don't forget my little
wife, papa."
"I won't forget, Sunshine," said Mr. Legrange, laughing, as he
followed the child and nurse to the door, and watched them up
stairs. _