"You see," said Cousin Jack, who was, as usual, Director General of the celebration, "you see, Mehitabel, thirteen is said to be an unlucky number."
"And must I be unlucky all the year?" asked Marjorie, in dismay.
"On the contrary, my child. We will eradicate the unluck from the number,—we will cut the claws of the tiger,—and draw the fangs of the serpent. In other words, we shall so override and overrule that foolish superstition about thirteen being unlucky that we shall prove the contrary."
"Hooray for you, Cousin Jack! I'm lucky to have you around for this particular birthday, I think."
"You're always lucky, Mehitabel, and you always will be. You see, this business they call Luck is largely a matter of our own will-power and determination. Now, I propose to consider thirteen a lucky number, and before your birthday is over, you'll agree with me, I know."
"I 'spect I shall, Cousin Jack. And I'm much obliged to you."
"That's right, Mehitabel. Always be grateful to your elders. They do a lot for you."
"You needn't laugh, Cousin Jack. You're awful good to me."
"Good to myself, you mean. Not having any olive-branches of my own, I have to play with my neighbors'. As I understand it, Mehitabel, you're to have a party on this birthday of yours."
"Yes, sir-ee, sir! Mother says I can invite as many as I like. You know there are lots of girls and boys down here that I know, but I don't know them as well as I do the Craigs and Hester. But at a party, I'll ask them all."