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."
Just after the last parcel had been untied, Molly and Stella came flying in. That is, Molly came flying, while serious little Stella walked at her usual sedate pace.
"Many happy returns of the day!" cried Molly, "and here's my gift." She had in her arms a large and rather ungainly bundle, loosely wrapped in white tissue paper.
Together she and Marjorie hastily pulled off the papers, and there was a beautiful cat-basket trimmed with blue ribbons and lined with soft cushions for Puff to sleep in.
"Oh!" cried Marjorie, flinging her arms around Molly's neck, "that's just what I've been wanting ever since I've had that kitten." And grabbing up Puff, who was never very far away, she laid her in the basket.
Puff seemed delighted with her new bed, and, after curiously sniffing and poking into all the nooks and corners of it, she curled up and began to purr herself to sleep.