“I am not,” retorted Gladys, looking at Ellen in astonishment.  The idea that she, whom her father and mother watched from morning until night as their greatest treasure, could be called unlucky!  She had never expressed a wish in her life that had not been gratified.  “You mustn’t say such things to me, Ellen,” added the child, vexed that her maid did not look sorry for having made such a blunder.

Ellen had taken care of her ever since she was born, and no one should know better what a happy, petted life she had led; but Ellen only shook her head now; and when Gladys was dressed she went down to the dining-room where her parents were waiting to give her a birthday greeting.

They kissed her lovingly, and then her mother said:—­

“Well, what does my little girl want for her gift?”

“What have you for me?” asked Gladys, with only faint interest.  She had closets and drawers full of toys and books and games, and she was like a person who has been feasted and feasted, and then is asked to sit down again at a loaded table.

For answer her mother produced from behind a screen a beautiful doll.  It was larger and finer than any that Gladys had owned, and its parted, rosy lips showed pearly little teeth within.

Gladys looked at it without moving, but began to smile.  Then her mother put her hand about the doll’s waist and it suddenly said:  “Ma-ma—­Pa-pa.”

“Oh, if she can talk!” cried Gladys, looking quite radiant for a minute, and running forward she took the doll in her arms.

“Her name is Vera,” said the mother, happy at having succeeded in pleasing her child.  “Here is something that your grandmother sent you, dear.  Isn’t it a quaint old thing?” and Gladys’s mother showed her a heavy silver bowl with a cover.  On the cover was engraved, “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

“I don’t know where your grandma found such an odd thing nor why she sent it to a little girl; but she says it will be an heirloom for you.”

Gladys looked at the bowl and handled it curiously.  The cover fitted so well and the silver was so bright she was rather pleased at having, such a grown-up possession.

“It is evidently valuable,” said her mother.  “I will have it put with our silver.”

“No,” returned Gladys, and her manner was the willful one of a spoiled child.  “I want it in my room.  I like it.”

“Oh, very well,” answered her mother.  “Grandma will be glad that you are pleased.”

An excursion into the country had been planned for Gladys to-day.  She had some cousins there, a girl of her own age and a boy a little older.  She had not seen Faith and Ernest for five years.  Their father and mother were away on a long visit now, so the children were living in the old farmhouse with an aunt of their father’s to take care of them.  Gladys’s mother thought it would be a pleasant change for her in the June weather, and it was an attractive idea to Gladys to think of giving these country cousins a sight of her dainty self, her fine clothes, and perhaps she would take them one or two old toys that she liked the least; but the coming of Vera put the toy idea completely out of her head.  What would Faith say to a doll who could talk!