and a
chuckle,
“Bless
you,
deary, a
hundred
times! The
cake ain’t
hurt a
mite, and
everything
looks
lovely.”
Everybody
cleared up
after
that, and
said
something
brilliant,
or tried
to, which
did just
as well,
for
laughter
is ready
when
hearts are
light.
There was
no display
of gifts,
for they
were
already in
the little
house, nor
was there
an
elaborate
breakfast,
but a
plentiful
lunch of
cake and
fruit,
dressed
with
flowers.
