Brother's birthday, he ought to be the one to go--don't you think so?"

Sister nodded, though her lower lip trembled suspiciously. And when
Mrs. Adams drove her shiny automobile up to the curb, and Louise and
Brother were whisked away in it, two big tears rolled down Sister's
round cheeks.

"Why, honey!" Grace, the other twin sister, swinging her tennis
racquet, came through the hall and saw the tears. "What you crying
for?" she asked. "Everyone gone and left you? I'll tell you what to
do--you go out in the kitchen and take a peep at what is on the table
and you won't feel like crying another moment."

"What is it?" asked Sister cautiously.

She wasn't going to stop crying and then find out she had been cheated.

"You go look," answered Grace mysteriously.

So sister started for the kitchen and Grace ran off to her game of
tennis with Jimmie.

The kitchen was in perfect order and very quiet. Molly was upstairs
making the beds, and Mother Morrison was planning the party with
Grandmother Hastings.

"Oh!" said Sister softly as she saw what was on the table. "Oh, my!"

For right in the center of the white-topped table, on a large pink
plate, perched Brother's birthday cake! It was a beautiful cake,
perfectly round and very smooth and brown.

"But the icing!" said Sister aloud. "There's no ICING! I s'pose Molly
didn't have time."

If Sister had stopped to think, she would have remembered that all the
birthday cakes Molly made--and she made seven every year for the
Morrisons, and one for Grandmother Hastings--were always iced with pink
or white or chocolate icing.

But, you see, she didn't stop to think, and when she discovered a bowl
of lovely creamy white stuff on the small table between the windows,
this small girl decided that she would ice the cake and save Molly the
trouble.

There was a little film of water over the top of the bowl, but Sister
took a wooden spoon and stirred it carefully, and the water mixed
nicely with the white stuff, so that she had a bowl filled with the
smoothest, whitest "icing" any cook could ask for.

"I'll get a silver knife to spread it with," said Sister, who had often
watched Molly, and knew what to do.

She brought the knife from the dining-room and had just put one broad
streak of white across the top of the cake when Molly came down the
back stairs and saw her.

"Sister!" cried Molly. "What are you doing with my cold starch?"

"I'm icing the cake," answered Sister