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AMY’S BIRTHDAY PARTY,
And What Came of It.
BY CLARA LE CLERC.
CARRIE, which
would you wear —the blue
or pink ?” and little Amy
Chilton held up the sashes
for ier B^sters inspection,
What a tiny little fairy she was,
with her golden brown ringlets,
blue eyes, and panting, rose-bud
mouth ; and, as she stood, with
the bright arrows of the June sunset
quivering over her, she made a beautiful
picture.
“Which? why, I would wear the blue ,
of course. Who ever heard tell of a blonde
wearing anything else?” And Miss Car
rie Chilton, not a very amiable young
lady, at best, with a frown and a “wish
you wouldn’t trouble me ” expression
upon her handsome face, turned to her
favorite occupation, from which she had
been interrupted, the reading of an excit
ing novel.
“Well, then, I’ll wear the blue,” mur
mured the little one almost beneath her
breath, as she left the room and hastened
up stairs. “Won’t I surprise, mother,
though, by being all dressed when she
comes to assist me ! Dear mother, how
good she is. Let me see; first, I’ll put
on my little clock stockings and slippers,”
and with this the dainty little feet were
soon incased in their pretty coverings.—
“Now, my hair must be curled,” and hum
ming stray bits of “the wishing song,”
each glossy ringlet was brushed out and
twined over the slender Avhite fingers,
each one falling a ring of burnished gold
upon the snowy neck.
“Why, Amy, love, what a little hair
dresser you are !”
Turning, Amy saw her mother at the
door, her kind face lighted with smiles.
“Mother, I knew you’d be so tired after
arranging the table that I thought I’d
dress myself, if possible ; and I’m getting
on very well, don’t you think so ?” and
the bright little face looked lovingly into
the smiling one above her.
“There now, my little girl is all ready.
Walk out to the door and let me see how
you look,” said the fond mother, as she
caught up a cluster of ringlets and held
them in place with a snowy bud and
glossy green leaves.
The little maiden walked the desired
distance, and, returning, help up her rosy
lips to be kissed.
“Ten years old to-day. My dear child,
recollect that you are to be good ; always
BUEKE’S WEEKLY.
remembering to thank ‘Our Father who
art in Heaven ’ for your many blessings.
You have been an obedient and dutiful
child during the past year, and for that
reason jrnur father and myself have per
mitted you to invite your little friends to
take tea with you this evening. Be care
ful that you make yourself agreeable to
one and all. See that they enjoy the sim
ple games and pleasures of the evening ;
and be sure to notice with particular in
terest those who maybe a little awkward
and timid. Make them feel at home.”
Mrs. Chilton now left the room, accom
panied by her little daughter, and, going
dowii into the parlor, gave her further
instructions as to how she should receive
her guests.
Soon the little guests began to flutter
in. Rather shy at first, they replied to
each other’s questions in constrained
whispers ; then by and by the shyness
wore off, and merry peals of laughter
floated through the rooms and found their
way to where sister Carrie was sitting,
still intent upon her novel.
“Why, how happy the children seem to
be! I think I must go down;” and put
ting aside her book with eager haste, she
arranged her dress and went down into
the parlor.
Now and then father and mother, with
happy smiles upon their faces, would steal
to the door and watch the merry games,
and would join heartily in the bursts of
laughter, as some iuckless urchin, having
taken the vacant chair by the side of the
little miss who had not called for
to bear the mortification of being “slap
ped out!”
At length, when the little throats were
beginning to grow hoarse and dry with
laughter and funny sayings, mother's hap
py face again appeared at the door, and
beckoning Amy to her side, told her to
invite her guests to walk out to the arbor
to tea.
Now the little gallants, bustling for
ward, offered to escort the little white
robed maidens to the table. With many
blushes and merry ripples of fun and
laughter, they passed through the beau
tiful garden with its tall evergreen and
cedar trees, ornamented with colored
lamps, and at length reached the arbor,
which was in a perfect blaze of light,
caused by a globe formed of evergreen
and covered with a hundred candles, sus
pended from the centre of the lattice
work; also by the many pretty lamps
upon the richly furnished table. With
low exclamations of delight the merry
band gathered around the table; and fath
er, mother and sister Carrie, assisted by
several servants, offered the many dainty
dishes with which the table was covered,
to the dry, hungry little mouths.
“How delicious this iced lemonade is!”
or, “Did you ever taste nicer jelly cake!”
or, “What beautiful candy hearts,” &c.,
were some of the exclamations, as the
plates of the merry little guests were fill
ed by the happy waiters.
“I regret, boys and girls, that I could
get but \%ry few apples ; June apples are
just coming in, and the supply is as yet
quite limited in the city,” said father, as
he helped a bright little brunette to a
large rosy-cheeked June apple.
“Please, Signor, would you like to buy
some apples ?”
The voice was foreign in its accent, and
turning in the direction whence it came,
the merry band saw a tall, well-formed
lad, of some thirteen years, dressed in a
ragged suit of blue homespun. His face
was dark and handsome, and his black,
wavy hair, and large, sad eyes of the
same hue, gave the poor boy quite an in
teresting appearance. In one hand he
held a torn straw hat; on the other arm,
a large basket filled with rosy June ap
ples, very similar to the one Mr. Chilton
had but a moment before placed upon the
plate of Miss Annie Winters.
Amy Chilton left her place at the table,
and gliding to her father’s side, whisper
ed eagerly : “ Father, dear father, buy his
apples, and ask him to stay and share my
birthday feast. I am so happy to-night
I cannot bear to see any one else unhap
py, and I know that poor boy is.”
Clasping the little hand of his child
affectionately within his broad palm, Mr.
Chilton approached the boy saying :
«Wh at is your name, my boy ? and
what do you ask for your apples?”
“Marco Castino; I let you have all the
apples for one dollar.” Taking the bas
ket from his arm, he placed it upon a
table near by, and selecting several large
apples, gave them to Mr. Chilton.
“Yes, I see they are very fine; 1 will
take them, and—but first, put aside your
hat, come to the table, and enjoy my lit
tle daughter’s birthday festival.”
“Ah, signor, there is no enjoyment for
me,” and the boy brushed a tear from his
dark eye.
Amy left her father’s side, and ap
proaching the lone Italian boy, slipped
her little hand in his, and looking ear
nestly into his face, exclaimed, “Oh! do
come, Marco. See the nice little boys
and girls ; and you are just as handsome
as any of them, although your clothes are
not so new and fine as theirs. Come!’’
and the child drew him forward and led