ftly. "I suppose I am not very wise in
such matters, but one of the nicest ladies I ever knew was a little Irish
sewing woman who made buttonholes. It was one summer when I went South,
more years ago than I care to count; and Winnie--her name was Winnie--came
to the house to renovate my riding habit for me."

The speaker paused as if she did not care to say more. She was a slender
little person, not awe-inspiring at all. She had just driven up in a
pretty, light carriage, and was still muffled in a soft fleecy wrap that
fell around her like a cloud. The face that looked out from it was sweet
and pale as a star. It brightened into radiance as Polly, a veritable
fairy now in her party fluffs and ruffs and ribbons, sprang out on the
porch and flung herself into Miss Stella's arms.

"Marraine! Marraine!" she cried rapturously,--"my own darling Marraine!"

"Why will you let the child give you that ridiculous name, my dear?"
protested grandmamma, disapprovingly.

"Because--because I have the right to it," laughed the lady, as Polly
nestled close to her side. "I am her godmother real and true,--am I not,
Polykins? And we like the pretty French name for it better."

"Oh, much better!" assented Polly. "'Godmother' is too old and solemn to
suit Marraine. Oh!" (with another rapturous hug) "it was so good of you to
come all the way from Newport just for my party, dear, dear Marraine!"

"All the way from Newport!" answered the lady. "Why, that dear letter you
sent would have brought me from the moon. You will be ten years old
to-night, it said,--ten years old! O Pollykins! Pollykins!" (There was a
little tremor in the voice.) "And you asked if I could come and help you
with your party. I could and I would, so here I am! And here is your
birthday present."

Marraine flung a slender golden chain around Polly's neck.

"Oh, you darling,--you darling!" murmured Polly. "But _you_ are the best
of all birthday presents, Marraine,--the very best of all!"

"Now, really we must stop all this 'spooning,' Pollykins, and start
things," said Marraine, dropping her, and emerging in a shining silvery
robe, with a big bunch of starry jessamine pinned on her breast.

"You are not going to bother with the children, surely, Stella?" said dad,
who had drawn near the speaker.

"I am," said the lady, flashing him a laughing look. "That's what I came
for. I am going to forget the years (don't be cruel enough to count them,
Cousin Pen), and for tw