A GAME OF SLICED BIRDS

Marian was so happy with her doll and teaset the following day she was blind and deaf to all that happened in the house outside her little room. She didn't know that Mrs. Russel made her first call upon Aunt Amelia in the afternoon, nor that company was expected in the evening. Ella's mysterious airs were lost upon her. The child was accordingly surprised when she met the company at breakfast.

Aunt Hester, Mrs. St. Claire's younger sister, was a pleasant surprise because she was good-looking and agreeable. She returned Marian's smile of greeting with interest. Marian hoped she had found a friend and hovered near the welcome stranger until sent to her room. During the rest of the week she and Aunt Hester exchanged smiles when they met at the table, and to win a few kind words from her became Marian's dream. New Year's Day brought an opportunity. Mrs. Russel sent a box of sliced birds to Marian and her cousin, and as the gift came while the family were at breakfast, Marian knew all about it. At last she and Ella owned something in common and might perhaps be allowed to play together. She could hardly wait to finish her breakfast.

"What are sliced birds and how do you play with them?" she asked Aunt Hester, who carried the box into the sitting-room.

"Well," began Aunt Hester, "can you read, Marian?"

"Yes, auntie, I can read pretty near anything I try to, but I can't write very good, not a bit good. Do you have to write in sliced birds?"

"No," was the laughing reply, "if you can spell a little that is all that is necessary. Here is a paper with a list of birds on it we can put together. Now here is the word jay. A picture of a jay is cut in three pieces, on one piece is 'J,' on another is 'A' and on the third is 'Y.' Now hunt for 'J.'"

"Ella knows her letters," Marian suggested. "Come, Ella, hunt for 'J,' that piece would have a blue jay's head on it, I guess." Marian waited until Ella found the letter and together they finished the blue jay. Both children were delighted with the result.

"Oh, what fun!" cried Marian. "We'll make all the birds, Ella. I'll read a name and tell you what letters to hunt for."

A shadow fell across the bright scene, caused by the entrance of Aunt Amelia. "Go over there and sit down," she said to Marian. "I came in to help Hester divide the game."

"Divide the game!" echoed both children.

"Oh, don't do it, please don't," besought Marian, "we want to play with all the birds together."

"It seems a pity," began Aunt Hester, but she gathered Ella in her arms and helped form all the birds in two straight lines upon the floor as her sister desired.

Marian watched with eager interest. She hoped when the birds were divided a few of the pretty ones might be given to her. If she had her choice she couldn't tell whether she would take the peacock or the bird of paradise—they were both gorgeous. The scarlet tanager and the red-headed woodpecker were beautiful but of course it wasn't fair to wish for all the brightest birds. It was Aunt Hester who suggested a way to divide the game.

"Let them take turns choosing," she said. "It seems to me that will be perfectly fair. The children might draw cuts for first choice."

At that, Marian saw her opportunity. "Ella may be the first chooser," she declared, and was rewarded by a smile from Aunt Hester. Which would Ella take? the bird of paradise or the peacock? Either would please Marian, so it really made no difference which was left. Ella wanted them both and said so.

"Hush," whispered her mother, "if you keep still Marian won't know which birds are the prettiest. Aunt Hester and I will help you choose."

"I guess I'll take that," Ella decided, pointing towards the bird of paradise.

Marian was about to choose the peacock when a whispered word from Aunt Hester caught her ear.

"I hope, Ella dear, that she won't take the peacock."

Marian hesitated a moment. She wanted the peacock with its gay, spreading tail, but if Aunt Hester wished Ella to have it perhaps she would love whoever helped her get it. "I'll take the turkey," said the child, whereupon Ella gave a shout.

"She don't know much, she took an old brown turkey. I'll have the peacock and I want the red bird and the redhead."

Aunt Amelia laughed. "One at a time, you dear, impulsive child," said she, but Aunt Hester smiled across at Marian. "Your turn," she said.

"I'll take the owl," Marian quietly replied.

"Oh, ho! an old owl!" laughed Ella, clapping her hands for joy. "Now I'll have the redhead! goody! And next time——"

"Hush," warned her mother. "You mustn't let Marian know what you want or she'll take it."

"I choose the wren," came in low tones from Marian.

"My turn," Ella called. "Give me the redhead."

"Choose the flicker next," advised her mother, so Marian, still hoping to be loved, chose the robin.

Aunt Hester smiled again, but the smile was for Ella. "Take the parrot next," she whispered, so Marian chose the crow.

"Now, Ella, darling," whispered her mother, "the oriole, after Marian has her turn," and Marian, taking the hint, motioned for the jay.

It was over at last and Marian was told to go to her room. As she was leaving, Aunt Hester gave Ella a rapturous hug and said, "Our baby has all the prettiest birds." Aunt Hester didn't know Marian heard the remark until she saw the tears that could not be kept back, wetting the rosy cheeks. "Oh, you poor young one!" she exclaimed, and but for the presence of Aunt Amelia, she would have taken the sad little mortal in her arms.

"She's crying 'cause her birds are all homely," said Ella.

"Of course, she always wants the best," remarked Mrs. St. Claire, but Aunt Hester and Ella both gazed after the retreating figure of little Marian, with conscience-stricken faces. They had been three against one, and that one didn't know enough to take the choicest birds when she had the chance. They hadn't played fair.

Marian, blinded by tears, stumbled over a rug at the door of her room and the sliced birds slipped almost unheeded from her apron. The nearest seat was the box she called her piano stool. She dropped upon it and buried her face in her arms on the piano. The sheet music tumbled forward upon her head, perhaps fearing it might be but an old almanac forever after. Bitter thoughts filled the little soul. Why would no one love her? Why did the sound of her voice annoy every one so she feared to speak? What was the trouble? Was she so bad or so homely that no one might love her? She had tried to be good and tried to do right, but what difference had it made? Aunt Hester thought her stupid because she allowed Ella to take what birds she would. Surely Aunt Hester was the stupid one.

It was impossible for Marian to feel miserable long at a time. In a few minutes she sat up and straightened her sheet music, whereupon the almanac became a hymn-book. She turned the leaves slowly as did the young lady who played the organ prayer-meeting nights. Then, addressing the wax doll and the bed posts she announced in solemn tones, "We'll sing nineteen verses of number 'leventy 'leven."

"Number 'leventy 'leven" happened to be "Come Ye Disconsolate," a hymn Marian was familiar with, as it was Aunt Amelia's favorite. The tune began dismally enough, but the disconsolate one took courage on the third line and sang out triumphantly at last, with a great flourish upon the piano, "'Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.'" "Twenty Froggies Went to School" came next, and Marian was herself once more, which is to say, she became at a moment's notice, a famous musician, a school-teacher, a princess, a queen or whatever the occasion required, while the little room was easily changed into anything from the Desert of Sahara to a palace.

The extent of Marian's knowledge was the only limit to the games she played. Pictures in the family Bible had given her many an hour of entertainment in the little room, thanks to the fact that Uncle George allowed Marian to look at the pictures on an occasional Sunday afternoon. The doll almost broke her nose the day before playing "Rebecca at the Well." The "Marriage at Cana" was a safer game for a wax doll that could not stand, especially as the doll made a beautiful bride. Turning from her piano, Marian saw something that made her laugh. The robin's head and the duck's feet had fallen one above the other.

"Poor robin," she said, "I guess you would rather have your own feet. R-o-b-i-n, I know how to spell you, and I'll put you on your own feet and I'll give the duck his own head so he can quack." When the robin was put together it looked like an old friend. "You're nicer than the bird of paradise, after all," declared Marian, "because I know you so well. You and I used to be chums because I didn't have any little girls to play with."

It was something of a puzzle to put all of the birds together, but when the work was finished Marian was pleased. "You're all so nice and common looking," she said. "I never saw the owl bird, but we used to hear him in the woods at night, didn't we, blue jay? He used to go, 'Who—who—whoo—whoo!' We used to see you, old black crow, you always said 'Caw—caw—caw,' and you dear little wren, how I would like to hear you sing once more. Where are you all now? Somewhere way down South, because our teacher says so and when the snow is gone, you'll come flying back.

"Oh, now we'll play something. It is autumn over here on the rug, the rug's the orchard, and the leaves are falling and all the flowers are fading and winter is coming. You see that sunshiny spot on the floor over there under the windows, birdies? Well, that is down South where you are going. I don't remember who goes first but I guess the little wren better fly away now, and we'll have lots of fun." One by one the birds went south, owl and all, and one by one they flew back to the orchard in the spring-time, where the wax doll welcomed them, listened to their songs and scattered strings about for them to use in building their nests.

It was a pleasant game and Marian was called to the dining-room before she thought of putting the birds away.

"I wonder if I didn't get the best half of the game after all," she suggested to the wax doll as she threw it a parting kiss.

Had Marian known that the bird of paradise, the peacock and the other bright ones were laid upon a shelf as birds of no consequence and that Ella had complained all the forenoon of having nothing to do, she would have understood why Aunt Hester not only greeted her with a smile, but said at the same time, "You dear, happy child."

It was enough that Aunt Hester said it and smiled, without puzzling for a reason. Surely Marian had chosen the better half of the game when such loving tones were meant for her. It was wonderful.