The sun was away up in the sky and was flooding her room with a warm radiance when Mary Louise awoke. The soft twitter of the birds and the clip-clip of a lawn mower next door came in through the windows. Stretching her slender body and yawning prodigiously, she clambered out of bed. The breeze was softly fluttering the curtains, and a tiny moss rosebud which had climbed that high, tapped alluringly against the sill of the open window.

Mary Louise decided that it was a very wonderful world to be out in, and that she would hurry and get dressed. In a short time she entered the dining-room to tell Aunt Sally she would have her breakfast.

Suddenly she stopped short in sheer amazement at the table. Then the recollection came to her. To be sure, to-day was her birthday! How like Grandpa Jim to plan this surprise for her, and how like Aunt Sally to carry it out so beautifully! The huge round mahogany table was covered with a cloth of exquisite lace. In a low basket in the center of the table, dozens of pale pink rosebuds were clustered together, their graceful little heads bobbing in all directions about the handle of the basket. A tiny rosebud nestled at all of the eight plates, to give a dainty welcome to each young girl invited to Mary Louise’s birthday breakfast.

Out in the garden Mary Louise caught a glimpse of her grandfather and Josie O’Gorman walking arm in arm along the garden paths, and out she rushed to them.

“What a perfectly beautiful surprise,” sang Mary Louise as she caught up with them.

“Happy Birthday!” they both called out to her as in one breath.

Then the guests began to arrive. Irene came first from the house next door, her wheel chair coming easily over the gravel path. She gave Mary Louise a very tender birthday kiss, and pressed upon her a large box filled with delicious home-made candy.

“Aunty Hannah and I made it for you this morning, dear Mary Louise,” she said.

“How lovely!” cried Mary Louise, her eyes asparkle with excitement and delight, and running to the gate, she met the other guests who were just arriving. Each brought a little gift to tell their love for Mary Louise. Laura Hilton brought an ingenious toy automobile with a uniformed tin driver very erect at the wheel.

Aunt Sally appeared at this moment to ask them in to breakfast, so the laughing, happy girls went in, their bright-hued gowns making a veritable rainbow about the table.

“And now,” cried Alora, leaning across the table, “we’ve waited just as long as we possibly can; tell us all about the automobile.”

“Yes, and the thief,” added Lucile Neal, eagerly.

Mary Louise most wisely held her peace. Instead of explaining she turned to Josie O’Gorman saying, “Goodness, don’t ask me to tell you when we have a regular unraveler of mysteries there to spin the yarn for us.”

“To be sure,” exclaimed Phoebe Phelps. “Josie, be careful to tell us every single word.”

So Josie, nothing loth, told her own version of the missing car, that version being just what Mary Louise wished it to be. So the recounting was highly satisfactory to all. As they talked and exclaimed, Aunt Sally served one delicious course after another, and the happy, healthy girls enjoyed it all.

As they left the dining room and strolled out on to the wide veranda, resting in the wide and roomy swing or in the lounging cretonne chairs, Josie said, with regret in her voice: “Girls, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go back to Washington on the next train.”

“Oh, Josie,” wailed Mary Louise; “must you really leave on my beautiful birthday?” But realizing it was useless to try to dissuade her, she added: “Well, anyway, we’ll all pile into the car and take you to the station.”

“Yes, luckily we’ve got the car to pile into,” echoed Josie.

So with a great deal of laughter and much chatter the Liberty Girls adjourned to the garage.

After Mary Louise had safely deposited Josie on the train for Washington and her friends at their houses, she turned the car slowly toward her own home. Somehow she did not want to return just yet. Of a sudden her heart was strangely heavy.

She had had a perfect birthday, she told herself, so what more could she possibly want? That she did want something more, however, was quite obvious, or why should two fat tears start from her eyes and go bouncing down the smoothness of her cheeks.

Mary Louise was not surprised to find that she was crying. It would never do for Grandpa Jim to think her unhappy when he had been so dear to-day, so she turned the corner and started quickly for a country road.

Anywhere, just any place where she could be alone and think.

“Grandpa Jim never, never has forgotten my birthday,” thought Mary Louise, as her car spun along the macadam. “Oh, why couldn’t Danny have remembered just this once,” and two more tears were added to the collection.

This fact rather startled Mary Louise. Could that be the reason she was crying? Because Danny had forgotten her? In her amazement Mary Louise slowly stopped the car at the entrance to a grassy lane.

Instantly she realized it was the very lane where Danny had come to her the night before and where she had been so glad to see him. Rather dazedly she climbed out of the auto and wandered slowly down the lane. Just to reach the spot where she and Danny had been together, and just to be alone and think—that was what she wanted.

Her bright pink gingham was as fresh and sweet as the wild roses it brushed in passing, and her cheeks were flushed a rose hue too. The flower-wreathed Leghorn hat she wore made deeper shadows in her eyes. But Mary Louise knew nothing of all that.

To the lad who ten minutes before had flung himself upon the ground, her slow approach down the lane was like the coming of an angel.

He jumped up quickly and went to her. Mary Louise was startled by the unexpected movement and as she glanced up quickly she saw Danny approaching.

“Mary Louise,” said Danny simply, “I’m glad you came here before the day was over. Yes,” he explained, as Mary Louise’s eyes questioned him, “I haven’t forgotten it’s your birthday, and I want to wish you all the happiness in the world; you deserve every bit of joy there is.”

“Oh, no,” said Mary Louise, with a happy little flush, “but I’m glad you thought of me, Danny.”

“Of course, I did,” said Danny, and then added rather shyly as he held out a little package, “Mary Louise, I know that to-day is your birthday, and I want so much to give you what I cherish most. May I?” And Mary Louise said he might. Mary Louise opened the package and found the most wonderful birthday present any girl could have,—the Distinguished Service Medal of her hero.