The rosy mouth, gathering for a kiss, answered without words; but Mr. Legrange, taking the dimpled face between his hands, said,—­

“No, no! we must go on deliberately.  One for the forehead, two for the eyes,—­that makes three; one for each cheek makes five; and now the last and best for the lips makes six.  Next year, there will be another for the chin, and, after that, one in each ear:  won’t that be nice?”

“And mamma?  Hasn’t Sunshine any kisses for her this morning?” asked Mrs. Legrange.

The child slid from her father’s knee to the floor, and, with her arms round her mother’s neck, whispered,—­

“I’ll give mamma all these kisses papa just gave me, and some more too.”

And for a minute or two it would have been hard to say to which head the showery golden curls belonged, or which pair of lips was the kisser’s, and which the kissed; while the Sun fairly danced with delight as he wrapped the two in a beautiful golden mantle woven of his choicest beams.

Mr. Legrange looked on, laughing, for a moment, and then said,—­

“So Susan told you people get presents on their birthdays, did she, ’Toinette?”

“Yes, papa;” and the child, half turning from her mother, but still clinging round her neck, looked at her father roguishly.

“And I guess you knew it before, and didn’t forgotten about it, did you, papa?” asked she.

“Well, yes, I believe I have heard something of the kind,” said Mr. Legrange, gravely considering; “but, dear me! did you expect me to make you a present?”

’Toinette’s face grew rather blank; and a sudden impulse turned down the corners of her mouth with a little tremble across the lips.  But the instinct of native refinement and delicacy overcame the disappointment; and, coming to her father’s side, the child put her hand in his with a brave little smile, saying,—­

“It’s no matter, papa dear.  I’ve got ever so many pretty things up in the nursery; and Susan gave me the candy.”

Mr. Legrange looked at his wife.

“Your own child, Fanny.  O Sunshine, Sunshine! what are you coming to by and by?  But bless me! what is this in the pocket of my dressing-gown?  Let me take it out, lest it should hurt you when I set you in my lap again.  Funny-looking little box, isn’t it?”

As he spoke, Mr. Legrange laid upon the table a long, flat box of red morocco, with some gilt letters upon the top.

“Yes, papa.  What’s in the box?” asked ’Toinette, still with a little effort.

“What do you think, Sunshine?”

“I guess it’s some cigars, papa.”

“It would make a good cigar-case, to be sure; but you know I have one already, and mamma says I ought not to have any.  Let us peep in, and see what else the box would be good for besides cigars.”

He unfastened the little hooks holding down the cover as he spoke, and placed the casket in ’Toinette’s hands.  She raised the lid, and uttered a low cry; while her face flushed scarlet with surprise and pleasure.