Marjorie's thirteenth birthday dawned bright and clear.

Her opening eyes rested on some strange thing sticking up at the foot of her bed, but a fully-awakened glance proved it to be a big No. 13, painted on a square of white pasteboard, and decorated with painted four-leaved clovers.

The motto "Good Luck" was traced in ornamental letters, and the whole was in a narrow wood frame.

"That's my birthday greeting from Cousin Jack and Cousin Ethel!" Marjorie said to herself; "I recognize her lovely painting, and it's just like them, anyway. I'll hang that on my bedroom wall, till I'm as old as Methusaleh."

"Happy Birthday, darling!" said her mother, coming in, and sitting on the side of the bed; "many happy returns of the day."

"Oh, dearie Mother! I'm so glad I've got you! and I'm so glad you're really my very own mother! Give me thirteen kisses, please, ma'am!"

"Merry Birthday, Midget!" called her father, through the crack of the door. "You two had better stop that love-feast and get down to breakfast!"

So Marjorie sprang up, and made haste with her bathing and dressing, so that in less than half an hour she was dancing downstairs to begin her Lucky Birthday. Her presents were heaped round her plate, and the parcels were so enticing in appearance, that she could scarcely eat for impatience.

"Breakfast first," decreed her father, "or I fear you'll become so excited you'll never eat at all."

So Marjorie contented herself with pinching and punching the bundles, while she ate peaches and cream and cereal.

"Oh, what is in this squnchy one?" she cried, feeling of a loosely done-up parcel. "It smells so sweet, and it crackles like silk!"

"Kitty sent that," answered her mother, smiling, "and she wrote me that she made it herself."

But at last the cereal-saucer was empty, and the ribbons could be untied.

Kitty's gift proved to be a lovely bag, of pink and blue Dresden silk.

"What's it for?" asked King, not much impressed with its desirability.

"Oh, for anything!" cried Marjorie. "Handkerchiefs,—or hair-ribbons,—or,—or just to hang up and look pretty."

"Pretty foolish," opined King, but he greeted with joy the opening of the next bundle.

"Jumping Hornets!" he exclaimed; "isn't that a beauty! Just what I wanted!"

"Whose birthday is this, anyhow?" laughed Marjorie, as she carefully unrolled the tissue-paper packing from a fine microscope. Uncle Steve had sent it, and it was both valuable and practical, and a thing the children had long wished for.

"Well, you'll let a fellow take a peep once in a while, won't you?"

"Yes, if you'll be goody-boy," said Midget, patronizingly.

Grandma Sherwood's gift was a cover for a sofa-pillow, of rich Oriental fabric, embroidered in gold thread.

"Just the thing for my couch, at home," said Midget, greatly pleased.

"Just the thing to pitch at you, after it gets stuffed," commented King. "Go on, Mops, open the big one."

The big one proved to be a case, from Mother and Father, containing a complete set of brushes and toilet articles for Marjorie's dressing-table. They were plain shapes, of ivory, with her monogram on each in dark blue.

"Gorgeous!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "Just what I longed for,—and so much nicer than silver, 'cause that has to be cleaned every minute. Oh, Mothery, they are lovely, and Fathery, too. Consider yourselves kissed thirteen hundred times! Oh, what's this?"

"That's my present," said King. "Open it carefully, Mops."

She did so, and revealed a pincushion, but a pincushion so befrilled and belaced and beflowered one could scarce tell what it was.

"I picked it out myself," said King, with obvious pride in his selection. "I know how you girls love flummadiddles, and I took the very flummadiddlyest the old lady had. Like it, Mops?"

"Like it! I love it! I adore it! And it will go fine with this beauty ivory set."

"Yes, you'll have a Louis Umpsteenth boudoir, when you get back to Rockwell."

"I shan't use it down here," said Marjorie, fingering the pretty trifle, "for the sea air spoils such things. But when I get home I'll fix my room all up gay,—may I, Mother?"

"I 'spect so. It's time you had a new wallpaper, anyway, and we'll get one with little pink rosebuds to match King's pincushion."

The Bryants' gift came next.

It was in a small jeweller's box, and was a slender gold neck chain and pendant, representing a four-leafed clover in green enamel on gold, on one petal of which were the figures thirteen in tiny diamonds.

"Oh, ho! Diamonds!" cried King. "You're altogether too young to wear diamonds, Mops. Better give it to me for a watch fob."

"I'm not, am I, Father?" said Marjorie, turning troubled eyes to her father.

"No, Midget. Not those little chips of stones. A baby could wear those. And by the way, where is Baby's gift?"

"My p'esent!" cried Rosy Posy, who had sat until now silent, in admiration of the unfolding wonders. "My p'esent, Middy! It's a palumasol!"

"Then it's this long bundle," said Marjorie, and she unwrapped a beautiful little parasol of embroidered white linen.

"Oh, Rosy Posyeums!" she cried. "This is too booful! I never saw such a pretty one!"

"Me buyed it! Me and Muvver! Oh, it's too booful!" and the baby kicked her fat, bare legs in glee at her own gift.

Grandma and Grandpa Maynard sent a silver frame, containing their photographs, and Grandma sent also a piece of fine lace, which was to be laid away until Marjorie was old enough to put it to use. It was her custom to send such a piece each year, and Marjorie's collection was already a valuable one.

There were many small gifts and cards from friends in Rockwell, and from some of the Seacote children, and when all were opened, Midget begged King to help her take them to the living-room, where they might be displayed on a table.

And then the Bryants arrived, and the house rang with their greetings and congratulations.

"Unlucky Midget!" cried Cousin Jack. "Poor little unlucky Mopsy Midget Mehitabel! Oh, what a sad fate to be thirteen years old, and to be so loaded down with birthday gifts that you don't know where you're at!

"Mopsy Midget Mehitabel May
Has come to a most unlucky day!
Nothing will happen but feasting and fun,
And gifts,—pretty nearly a hundred and one!
Jolly good times, and jolly good wishes,
A jolly good party with jolly good dishes.
Every one happy and everything bright,
Good Luck is here—and bad Luck out of sight.
'Tis the luckiest day that ever was seen,
For Marjorie Maynard is just thirteen!"

"Oh, Cousin Jack, what a beautiful birthday poem! I'm sure there couldn't be a luckier little girl than I! I've got everything!"

"And we've got you!" cried her father, catching her in his arms with a heart full of gratitude that she was safe at home with them.

The party was to begin at four o'clock, and the guests were invited to stay until seven. In good season Marjorie was dressed, and down on the veranda ready to receive her little friends.

She wore a pretty, thin white frock, with delicate embroidery, and the pendant that had been her birthday gift.

The family were all assembled when she came down, and though it would be half an hour before they could expect the guests, they all seemed filled with eager anticipation.

"What's the matter?" asked Midget, looking from one smiling face to another.

"Nothing, nothing!" said King, trying to look unconcerned.

"Nothing, nothing," said Cousin Jack, pulling a wry face.

But Mrs. Maynard said, "There's another birthday surprise for you, Marjorie dear. It has just come, and it's in the living-room. Go and hunt for it."

Marjorie danced into the house, and they all followed. She began looking about for some small object, peering into vases and under books, till her father said:

"Look for something larger, Midget; something quite large."

"And be careful of your frock," warned her mother, for Midget was down on her hands and knees, looking under the big divan.

"Keep on your feet!" advised King. "And look everywhere."

"Pooh! If I keep on my feet, I can't find anything big!" exclaimed Midget. "Where could it be hidden?"

"That's for you to find out!" returned King.

"I'll give you a hint," said Cousin Jack. "Turn, Mehitabel, turn."

Marjorie turned slowly round and round, but that didn't help her any.

"Turn, turn, turn, turn," Cousin Jack kept saying in a monotone, and suddenly it flashed on Marjorie that he meant for her to turn something else beside herself.

She turned the key of a bookshelf door, and opened it, but found nothing but books.

"Turn, turn, turn, turn," droned Cousin Jack.

"Oh," thought Marjorie, "the closet!" and flying to the door of a large closet in the room, she turned the knob, the door flew open, and there she saw,—Uncle Steve and Kitty!

"Oh, Kit!" she cried, and in a moment the two girls were so tangled up that detriment to their party frocks seemed inevitable.

But they were persuaded to separate before too much damage was done, and then Marjorie turned to greet Uncle Steve.

"I daren't rumple your fine feathers," he said, standing 'way off, and extending his fingertips to her. "But I'm terrible glad to see you, and to find that you've grown up as good as you are beautiful."

This made Marjorie laugh, for she didn't think she was either.

"How did you happen to come?" she cried, for she couldn't realize that Kitty was really there.

"Oh, it was just a stroke of good luck," said Cousin Jack. "You know to-day is your lucky day."

"'Deed it is!" declared Marjorie. "Come on, Kit, let's go and sit in the swing till the people come to the party."

The sisters had time for a short, merry chat, and then the guests began to arrive. There were about twenty-five boys and girls, and with the grown-ups this made quite a party.

It was fun, indeed, to have both Cousin Jack and Uncle Steve present, for these two men just devoted themselves to the cause, and made so much fun and merriment that they seemed like big children themselves.

They gave a burlesque wrestling match on the lawn that sent the young people off into peals of laughter. They made up funny dialogue, and were always playing good-natured tricks on some of the children. Then Cousin Jack said:

"Now we will play the Good Luck game. Into the hall, all of you!"

The children scampered into the hall, and on the wall they saw a large placard which read:

Each guest was given a small fancy basket, with ribbons tied to the handle. Then they were instructed to hunt all the rooms on the lower floor, the veranda, and the nearby lawns, and gather into their baskets such of the above mentioned articles as they could find. A prize would be given to the one who had the most valuable collection, according to the values given on the placard.

At the word "go!" they scuttled away, and hunted eagerly, now and then stooping to pick up a pin from the floor, or reaching up to get a horseshoe from the mantelpiece. The rooms had been literally sown with the small objects; the clovers and horseshoes being cut from pasteboard and painted, and the black cats being tiny china, wooden, or bronze affairs.

Cousin Jack must have had an immense store of these findings, for the baskets filled rapidly, and yet there seemed always more to be found.

"How are you getting along, Hester?" asked Marjorie as she met her.

"Can't find any hardly. I never have any luck! I s'pose you have a basket full!"

"Nearly," said Marjorie, laughing at Hester's ill-nature in the midst of the others' merriment.

"Say, Hester, I'll tell you what! I'll change baskets with you. Want to?"

"Will you?" and Hester's eyes sparkled. "Oh, Marjorie, will you?"

"Yes, I will, on condition that you'll be nice and pleasant, and not go around looking as cross as a magpie!"

"All right, give me your basket," and Hester put on a very bright smile in anticipation of winning the game.

"What did you do that for?" asked Kitty, who saw the transfer of baskets.

"Oh, because. Never mind now, Kit, I'll tell you to-morrow," and Midget danced away with Hester's almost empty basket hanging from her arm.

She picked up a few more things here and there, and then Cousin Jack rang a bell to announce that the game was over. The baskets, each having its owner's name on a card tied to it, were all put on the hall table, and Mrs. Maynard and Cousin Ethel appraised the contents, while the children went to another game.

This time Uncle Steve conducted affairs. Several tables in the living-room were surrounded by the players, and each was given a paper and pencil.

"I see," Uncle Steve began, "that this is a Good Luck party. So each of you write the words 'good luck' at the top of your paper. Have you done so? Good! Now, I hope you will all of you have all good luck always, but if you can't get it all, get part. So try your hand at it by making words of four letters out of those two words you have written. Use each letter only once,—unless it is repeated, like o in 'good.' However, that's the only one that is a repeater, so use the others only once in any word you make. The words must be each of four letters,—no more and no less. And they must all be good, common, well-known English words. Now go ahead, and the best list takes a prize."

How the children scribbled! How they nibbled their pencils and thought! How they whispered to each other to ask if such a word was right!

Marjorie was quick at puzzles, but she didn't think it would be polite to take the prize at her own party, so she didn't hand in her list. Neither did Kitty nor King. So when the lists were handed in, Uncle Steve rapidly looked them over.

"The longest list," he announced, "contains ten words."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Hester. "Isn't that just my bad luck! I had nine."

"So did I," said several others, but it was Tom Craig's list that had ten, so he received the prize. His list, as Uncle Steve read it out, was: Cook, loud, duck, cool, cold, lock, look, dock, clod, gold. The prize was a box of candy made in the shape of a four-leafed clover, so it was really four boxes.

Tom generously offered to pass the sweets around at once, but Uncle Steve advised him not to, as supper would be served pretty soon.

The children all liked the game, and clamored for a repetition of it, but Cousin Jack said it was his turn for a game now, and if they'd all stay at the tables, he'd give it to them.

"This is my own game," he said, "because it is called jackstraws, and my name is Jack. I am not a man of straw, however, as you'd soon find if you tried to knock me over! The game is almost like ordinary jackstraws, but with slight additions."

Then there were passed around bunches of jackstraws for each table. They were just like ordinary jackstraws, except they were of different colors, and a little card told how to count. White ones were one; red ones, two; blue ones, five; silver ones, ten; and gold ones, twenty. Then one marked Good Luck counted fifteen, and another, marked thirteen, counted twenty-five. This proved that thirteen was not an unlucky number!

It's always fun to play jackstraws, and the children went at it with a zest. Midget, at the next table, was not surprised to hear Hester complaining, "Oh, you joggled me! That isn't fair! I ought to have another turn! I never have any luck!" Marjorie smiled across at her, and, seeming to remember the condition of the basket exchange, Hester tried to smile, and succeeded fairly well.

Milly Fosdick won that prize, and they all laughed when it turned out to be a straw hat of Indian make. It was of gay pattern basket work, and adorned with beads and feathers. Milly was delighted with it, and said she should always keep it as a souvenir.

By that time the ladies had completed their task, and the prize for the Good Luck hunt fell to Hester Corey. This was the prettiest prize of all, being a beautifully illustrated copy of Grimms' "Fairy Tales," and Hester was enchanted with it. She took it eagerly, and never seemed to think for a moment that perhaps it wasn't quite fairly won; nor did she thank Marjorie for the assistance she gave.

Then they all went out to supper. And such a supper as it was! The table was decorated with green four-leafed clovers, and gilt horseshoes, and black cats, and yellow new moons. And every one had a little rabbit's foot, mounted like a charm, for a souvenir; and also a bright lucky penny of that very year.

And the sandwiches were cut like clovers, and the cakes like new moons, and the ice-cream was shaped like horseshoes, and everybody wished everybody else good luck all through Marjorie's thirteenth year. And when the young guests went away they all sang:

"Good luck, ladies; good luck, ladies;
Good luck, ladies;
We're going to leave you now."