At last, the younger of the dancing sisters, out of breath, and
laughing gaily, threw herself upon a bench to rest. The other
leaned against a tree hard by. The music, a wandering harp and
fiddle, left off with a flourish, as if it boasted of its
freshness; though the truth is, it had gone at such a pace, and
worked itself to such a pitch of competition with the dancing, that
it never could have held on, half a minute longer. The apple-
pickers on the ladders raised a hum and murmur of applause, and
then, in keeping with the sound, bestirred themselves to work again
like bees.

The more actively, perhaps, because an elderly gentleman, who was
no other than Doctor Jeddler himself - it was Doctor Jeddler's
house and orchard, you should know, and these were Doctor Jeddler's
daughters - came bustling out to see what was the matter, and who
the deuce played music on his property, before breakfast. For he
was a great philosopher, Doctor Jeddler, and not very musical.

'Music and dancing TO-DAY!' said the Doctor, stopping short, and
speaking to himself. 'I thought they dreaded to-day. But it's a
world of contradictions. Why, Grace, why, Marion!' he added,
aloud, 'is the world more mad than usual this morning?'

'Make some allowance for it, father, if it be,' replied his younger
daughter, Marion, going close to him, and looking into his face,
'for it's somebody's birth-day.'

'Somebody's birth-day, Puss!' replied the Doctor. 'Don't you know
it's always somebody's birth-day? Did you never hear how many new