Lily's Birthday by Madeline Leslie

IT was cold weather; but the day was bright and beautiful. Baby Lily in her warm bed rubbed her eyes, and tried to wake herself up. She knew something pleasant was going to happen; but for a minute or two she couldn't recollect what it was, and lay digging into her sleepy eyes with her tiny, dimpled hand, when a soft voice across the chamber, whispered-

"Baby Lily! Baby Lily! Wake up! Wake up! It's your birthday!"

"Oh, yes, Helen! " cried the child, starting up. "So it is!"

Helen rose from her couch and, walking softly across the chamber, kissed her sister four times.

"Aren't you glad, you little darling, that the day has come; and wont we have a splendid time at your birthday party?"

Baby Lily's eyes sparkled,-I wish you could have seen them,-and her cheeks grew such a pretty pink, you would have thought the roses had been kissing them. It was still very early; but Lily was impatient for the pleasures of the day to begin; so she slipped down the side of the bed, saying,-

"Sarah! Sarah! Can't I go downstairs? I want to. Oh, I'm so glad my birthday has come!"

"I'm afraid you'll wake baby brother, pet."

"Oh," exclaimed Helen, "I heard him cooing long ago."

So Sarah reached from the chair at the side of the bed a pair of stockings, and oh, such tiny shoes! And, having arrayed her little charge in them, sent her down to the nursery to be dressed, while she herself took another nap.

Helen caught up her clothes and pattered down after her sister. I suppose if you had caught a glimpse of Helen in her long white nightdress, and her curls floating like a veil about her, you would have thought her smiles were on account of the expected party; but they were not. They were always there. Indeed, I can't imagine how her mouth would have looked without smiles. It was just like a fresh sunbeam to see her come dancing into the room.

The nursery was very warm and pleasant, for there was a bright fire crackling and blazing away in the grate, as if it knew that this was a birthday, and meant to help celebrate it.

Margery sat in a low chair before the fire with Master Berty, a stout urchin of six months, springing and jumping in her arms.

Both Helen and Lily made their first addresses to the family pet, who cooed out his welcome in the very sweetest tones you ever heard. Certainly his little sisters thought no music was ever half so sweet. And there they stood bowing and catchooing, and laughing, while baby, every time Helen came near enough, would make a dive at her curls. It would have done you good to have seen them.

All this while Margery was laughing and enjoying the fun; but now, she tried to hurry them with their dressing.

"Come, Miss Helen," she urged, "if you play with baby any longer, you'll never be in season for breakfast. Baby Lily, bring me your skirt, and let me fasten it."

In one minute there was a dreadful scream. Margery tried to button the waist with her arm around the baby, when he gave a sudden spring, and over he went on to the rug, making a dreadful bump on his forehead, and cheek.

Poor Margery had scarcely time to catch him up before mamma rushed from the chamber adjoining, and grandma from her room, frightened almost out of their senses, for fear he had fallen into the fire.

Baby cried dreadfully, and held his breath; and all the while the bump was growing larger and more red, until at last he was so tired he was glad to lay his poor aching head on his mamma's shoulder to rest. But even here, he couldn't forget, and turned his red, swollen eyes from one to another, with such an expression, that they pitied him very, very much.

Little Lily forgot that it was her birthday, and her eyes were full of tears; and her lip quivered so that she could scarcely speak.