“Well, Della!” he exclaimed when that maiden met him at the door. “So the party day arrived all right. Bless me, but you do look cozy in here! Howdy, Dan Quigley! Mighty glad to see you lookin’ so pert! Hum, ha!” he added, with twinkling eyes, as the two old ladies appeared from the bedroom. “And if these girls aren’t Sally Grackle and Betsy Quigley. You don’t look a minute older’n you did in them days when we used to have parties pretty frequent.”
Suddenly Adele darted into the living-room from the kitchen. “Everybody hide!” she whispered. “Here comes Granny Dorset, and when she gets well settled I will say ‘Ahem,’ and then you are all to spring out and call ‘Happy Birthday!’”
What a scurrying there was! Grandpa Dally hid behind the open door, Mr. Quigley squeezed himself into a closet, and Mrs. Quigley and Miss Grackle went into the bedroom.
Bob and Jack helped Granny Dorset into the pleasant living-room, and she looked about her in speechless amazement as she sank into the comfortable rocker in a sunny window. “Well, Della,” she exclaimed, “whatever is the meaning of all this?”
“Ahem,” said the laughing girl, and out from their hiding-places sprang the four old people, each calling gayly, “Happy birthday, Sarie Dorset!”
The eight girls, watching from the kitchen-door, were certainly satisfied with the way in which Granny Dorset was surprised.
“Oh! Oh!” she said, with tears of joy running down her wrinkled cheeks. “It’s a party, isn’t it? I never thought I’d live to go to another one.”
Then, when her bonnet and shawl had been removed, Adele reappeared from the bedroom, carrying a long box.
“It’s a birthday present for you, Granny Dorset,” the girl announced. “And if you can guess what’s in it, you may have it.”
With shining eyes the old lady guessed one thing and then another, and then at last hesitatingly said, “It couldn’t be a dress, could it, Della?”