“You are a very lazy child,” said Ethelwyn in a superior tone, “and are not thinking about your presents at all, nor the making of good revolutions.”

“What’s them?” asked Beth, still with her eyes shut.

“Something you need to make very much, for you are not too good a child, I’m sorry to say.  Mother esplained about people making things like that at New Year’s, and birthdays, and so I’ve been thinking of some specially for you—­”

“I can make my own,” said Beth, fully awake now, “and I can help make yours when it comes to that, I guess.”

“Well,” said Ethelwyn, “I have been thinking of a few for you to begin with.  One is, never to be late for breakfast, and not to be selfish about getting the bath first, and never wanting to give up when your sister wants you to—­”

“You can make your own, while I’m getting my bath first now,” said Beth, sliding out of bed.  “I’m anxious to see my presents.”

Ethelwyn, speechless with rage, hastened her departure with a push, and then fell asleep until the breakfast bell rang.  How mortified she felt after what she had said to Beth!  Sierra Nevada hurried her through her bath and toilet as quickly as she could, but she would be late for breakfast anyway.  When she came into the dining-room, her mother kissed her gravely, but she was not allowed to look at her presents until after she had eaten.  She felt very miserable at the shrieks of delight from Beth, who was dancing around her doll house, with its two floors beautifully furnished, and dolls of every size, shape, and color living in it.

No wonder the oatmeal and the muffins lost their flavor!

But Ethelwyn effervesced quickly, and as quickly subsided.  Presently she was glad again, for there were books, candy, games, a walking doll from Paris that could talk as well, and a camera from Aunty Stevens.  The camera, she told her mother, she had been longing for for years and years.

Uncle Tom sent each of them some candy, and a five dollar gold piece, with a note intimating that they were to spend it as they liked.  Then there were two bicycles from Uncle Bob, some more candy, a pony, and some home-made molasses candy from their grandmother.  The pony was a real live pony, and Joe, a dear friend of theirs, from a near-by livery stable was to take care of it.

“I feel thankful that we are a large family of relatives,” said Beth, after a long and speechless period of rapture.

Their mother, being a wise woman, put away some of the candy, all but grandmother’s molasses, and a box or two for friends.  Then came little Nora, the niece of their dressmaker, Mrs. O’Neal, with a quart of pecans, for the birthday.  She went home with a box of candy, and told her little sister Katie about it.

“O I wanted to go too,” wailed Katie.

“You were asleep, dear, when I went, but I told them the nuts were from you, too.”

“But I wanted to hear them say, ‘thank you!’ Take me now.”