irthday, Tom!" and at his place lay gifts from every
member of the family; not as costly as formerly, perhaps, but infinitely
dearer, as tokens of the love that had outlived the change, and only
grown the warmer for the test of misfortune. In his present state of
mind, Tom felt as if he did not deserve a blessed thing; so when every
one exerted themselves to make it a happy day for him, he understood
what it means "to be nearly killed with kindness," and sternly resolved
to be an honor to his family, or perish in the attempt. Evening brought
Polly to what she called a "festive tea," and when they gathered round
the table, another gift appeared, which, though not of a sentimental
nature, touched Tom more than all the rest. It was a most delectable
cake, with a nosegay atop, and round it on the snowy frosting there
ran a pink inscription, just as it had been every year since Tom could
remember.

"Name, age, and date, like a nice white tombstone," observed Maud,
complacently, at which funereal remark, Mrs. Shaw, who was down in honor
of the day, dropped her napkin, and demanded her salts.

"Whose doing is that?" asked Tom, surveying the gift with satisfaction;
for it recalled the happier birthdays, which seemed very far away now.

"I did n't know what to give you, for you 've got everything a man
wants, and I was in despair till I remembered that dear grandma always
made you a little cake like that, and that you once said it would n't be
a happy birthday without it. So I tried to make it just like hers, and I
do hope it will prove a good, sweet, plummy one."

"Thank you," was all Tom said, as he smiled at the giver, but Polly knew
that her present had pleased him more than the most elegant trifle she
could have made.

"It ought to be good, for you beat it up yourself, Tom," cried, Maud.
"It was so funny to see you working away, and never guessing who the
cake was for. I perfectly trembled every time you opened your mouth,
for fear you 'd ask some question about it. That was the reason Polly
preached and I kept talking when she was gone."

"Very stupid of me; but I forgot all about to-day. Suppose we cut it;
I don't seem to care for anything else," said Tom, feeling no appetite,
but bound to do justice to that cake, if he fell a victim to his
gratitude.

"I hope the plums won't all be at the bottom," said Polly, as she rose
to do the honors of the cake, by universal appointment.

"I 've had a good many at the top a