surprise in the orchard.

"Of course, I mean except the swing," said Marjorie, looking
roguishly at Uncle Steve to see if she had guessed right.

"You've been peeping!" he exclaimed, in mock reproach, and then
Marjorie knew that whatever it was, it wasn't a swing.

"You know I haven't--you know I wouldn't," she declared, and then
she began to open the lovely-looking bundles.

It did seem as if everybody that Marjorie knew had remembered her
birthday. There were gifts from everybody at home, to begin with.
Mrs. Maynard had sent the sweetest blue-silk sash, and Mr. Maynard
a beautiful book. The children all sent toys or games or trinkets,
and every one seemed to Marjorie to be just what she had wanted.

There was a cup and saucer from Eliza, and small tokens from
Carter and Jane. For Marjorie was a great pet with the servants,
and they all adored her.

But among all the bundles there was no gift from Grandma or Uncle
Steve, and Marjorie wondered what had become of the mysterious
work which Grandma had been doing all shut up in her own room.

But even as she was thinking about it, Grandma explained:

"Our gifts will come later," she said. "When Uncle Steve gives you
his birthday surprise, I will add my contribution."