“I knows it, Hazel,” Scipio cried suddenly. “It’s Catnip. You make it like you learn me words.”
Hazel beamed at him. He had pleased his little teacher to-day more than he could ever have hoped to please her in all his life. This might be Granny’s pretend birthday, but it was a real day of triumph for Hazel’s pretend brother.
“And now, Granny,” Hazel said, still a little tremulously, “would you go on the porch with the children for just a few minutes and shut the door and leave Scipio and me here?”
Granny went willingly enough. She was beginning to enter into the spirit of the game.
“Darken the room as much as you can, Scip. Well put it in the middle of the table, and the candles on it and around it, and the flowers about them. We must light them, quickly, quickly. Oh, Scip, Scip, see! It’s the beautifulest kind of a birthday cake when you have seventy candles.”
“Let her come in right now,” Scipio said.
Granny with the children entered the room. On the table was a big white cake. Candles were in it and candles were around it, two rows deep. Each little flame twinkled as it rose from the bright-colored wax. It was a lovely sight.
“What you done do, sugar?” Granny gasped.
“It’s a birthday cake for you, Granny. I wanted you so to have a birthday cake. I’ve had five that I can remember, but they’re prettiest when you’re seventy. I wanted you so to have a birthday that I chose one for you; and April is a nice time, don’t you think? You do like it, don’t you, Granny?” and Hazel ran to her grandmother’s side.
“Baby,” Granny said holding her tight. “It’s the most beautiful thing as ever was. It’s the prettiest sight these eyes has ever seen. Scip,” she called suddenly, “don’t you let those candles burn down. Everybody’s got to see my cake.”