Gladys was in haste now for the time to come to take the train; and as Vera was well supplied with various costumes, the doll was soon arrayed, like her little mamma, in pretty summer street-dress and ready to start.

Gladys’s father had a guest to-day, so his wife remained at home with him, and Ellen took charge of the birthday excursion.

Driving to the station and during the hour’s ride on the train, Gladys was in gay spirits, chattering about her new doll and arranging its pretty clothes, and each time Vera uttered her words, the child would laugh, and Ellen laughed with her.  Gladys was a girl ten years old, but to the maid she was still a baby, and although Ellen thought she saw the child’s parents making mistakes with her every day, she, like them, was so relieved when Gladys was good-natured that she joined heartily in the little girl’s pleasure now over her birthday present.

“Won’t Faith’s eyes open when she sees Vera?” asked Gladys gayly.

“I expect they will,” returned Ellen.  “What have you brought with you for her and her brother?”

The child shrugged her shoulders.  “Nothing.  I meant to but I forgot it, because I was so pleased with Vera.  Isn’t her hair sweet, Ellen?” and Gladys twisted the soft, golden locks around her fingers.

“Yes, but it would have been nice to bring something for those children.  They don’t have so much as you do.”

“Of course not.  I don’t believe they have much of anything.  You know they’re poor.  Mother sends them money sometimes, so it’s all right.”  And Gladys poked the point of her finger within Vera’s rosy lips and touched her little white teeth.

Ellen shook her head and Gladys saw it and pouted.  “Why didn’t you think of it, then, or mother?” she asked.

“You won’t have somebody to think for you all your life,” returned Ellen.  “You’d better be beginning to think about other people yourself, Gladys.  What’s that it said on your grandmother’s silver bowl?”

“Oh, I don’t know.  Something about giving and receiving.”

“Yes.  ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive,’ that’s what it said,” and Ellen looked hard at her companion, though with a very soft gaze, too; for she loved this little girl because she had spent many a wakeful night and busy day for her.

“Yes, I remember,” returned Gladys.  “Grandma had that put on because she wanted me to know how much she would rather give me things than have people give things to her.  Anyway, Ellen, if you are going to be cross on my birthday I wish mother had come with me, instead;” and a displeased cloud came over the little-girl’s face, which Ellen hastened to drive away by changing the subject.  She knew her master and mistress would reprove her for annoying their idol.  They always said, when their daughter was unusually naughty or selfish, “Oh, Gladys will outgrow all these things.  We Won’t make much of them.”