"Yes, for three birds that I know of, who wear gingham dresses and hair ribbons."
"But we don't wear wings," interrupted Marjorie. "Oh, Uncle Steve, do tell me what that house is for!"
"It's for you, chickabiddy, and if you'd like to go up there I'll show you a way."
Uncle Steve stepped over to the double trunk, and reaching up pulled down something, which proved to be a weight hung on the end of a long cord. The cord reached up to the veranda of the little house.
"Here," said Uncle Steve, as he put the weight into Marjorie's hand, "this is perhaps as useful a birthday gift as the key I gave you. Pull hard, and see what happens."
Marjorie pulled hard, and as she pulled, a rope ladder came tumbling down from the edge of the little porch. It was a queer-looking ladder, the sides being of rope and the rounds of wood, while the top seemed to be securely fastened to the veranda floor.
"There you are," said Uncle Steve; "there's your birthday gift, and all you have to do is to skip up there, unlock the door, and take possession."
But instead of doing this, Marjorie, with a squeal of delight, threw her arms around Uncle Steve's neck.
"You dear, old, blessed uncle!" she cried. "I understand it all now; but truly I couldn't think how we were ever going to get up there. It's a lovely surprise, the best I ever had! You are SO good to me, and Grandma, too!"
Having nearly squeezed the breath out of Uncle Steve, Marjorie left him, and flying over to Grandma, treated her to a similar demonstration. And then, with her precious key tightly clasped in her hand, she started to climb the rather wabbly ladder. Impetuous Molly was crazy to follow, but Uncle Steve declared that it was the law of the house that there must never be more than one on the ladder at a time.