"What do you see?" she asked.

Yes, sure enough, there was a picture in it, a little faint, but he could make it out a horse and a bright red cart and on the seat a boy with crutches.

"Why it's Little Geeup and Johnny Cricket!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, it's the picture of the time you took him for a ride," she answered. "I saw you do it, and I went down to Earth, and took that kind, bright little star deed, and planted it here in this very same field."

"Oh, oh!" It was all he could say, it was so wonderful.

Then he saw another field not far away that was full of particularly bright stars.

"I think I know those," he told the Star Lady, "they seem like friends."

"Do they? No wonder!"

Then she looked at him, her head on one side, and a smile in her eyes.

"I won't tell you what they are. I'm going to let _you_ tell _me_."

"Oh, I know, I know," he cried, "they're Mother's kind deeds--all she's done for me and Jehosophat and Hepzebiah--and, oh, how many there are!" he added.

"Yes indeed, my dear. You never guessed there were so many, did you?"

Marmaduke grew very solemn as he replied,--

"But I won't forget now _ever_."

From where they stood, the great blue fields rose into a hill. And on the top of the hill was a beautiful star, the largest of all.

"And what is that?" the little boy asked his new friend.

"The star that shone over the cradle in Bethlehem."

He begged her to let him go nearer, but she shook her head.

"Not tonight. Someday you'll see it very clearly."

He was disappointed at that.

"When can I?" he asked.

"I do not know--but someday you and all in the world will see it, when the Earth people are kind to each other--not once in a while, but every day--_all the while_--"

"Anyway," said Marmaduke, "I don't think that star is any prettier than Mother's. It's _bigger_ but not _prettier_."

"No, dear," she said, "not any more beautiful--it's all the same light. But the Sun is putting on his gold shoes. Look--over there,"

she added, "you can see the reflection."

And sure enough, as Marmaduke looked over to the East, the edge of the sky was turning to gold.

"You'll have to say goodbye now," the Star Lady told him, not sadly but gently, "to all the stars and to me. But before you go, listen, and you'll hear them all singing together. They always do, in the morning before the Sun comes. There, can you hear it?"

He listened, oh, so hard, but all he could hear was music like sleigh bells that were very far away.

"I hear something," he told her, "but it isn't clear. It sounds so far, far off."

"Someday you'll hear that clearly, too," she said, then turned.

"Goodbye, my dear, I'll look out for your stars again, all the little ones you make each day. Don't forget."

And as he felt himself sinking, he saw the Star Lady waving at him from above, and he was sure she was singing again:

"Light, light By day or night; Stars in the skies, Stars in the eyes."

Again he opened his. There was the Blue Fairy Light winking at him--and his mother's hand was on his forehead. How good it felt! And how cool her voice sounded!

"Was it a nice dream, dear?" she asked him. He didn't answer that question. Instead he said shyly,

"Mother--"

"Yes, dear?"

"Your eyes are like--"

"Like what, my dear little boy?"

"Like stars," he finished drowsily, then fell asleep, her hand still on his forehead.

VIII

THE ANIMALS' BIRTHDAY PARTY

Birthdays are always important events, but some are more important than others. The most important of all, of course, is one you can't remember at all--the zero birthday, when you were born.

After that, the fifth, I suppose, is the red letter day. A boy certainly begins to appreciate life when he gets to be five years old.

Next, probably, would come the seventh, for a boy--or a girl--is pretty big by then, and able to do so many things. In old Bible days seven was supposed to be a sacred number, and even today many people think it lucky. Why, at the baseball games the men in the stands rise up in the seventh inning and stretch, they say, to bring victory to the home team.

The seventeenth birthday is the next great event. By that time a boy is quite grown up and ready for college; and on the twenty-first he can vote. But after that people don't think so much of birthdays until their seventieth or so, when they become very proud of them once more.

Perhaps they grow like little children again. Wouldn't it be funny to have, say, eighty candles on one cake? But what cook or baker makes cakes big enough for that?

Marmaduke wasn't looking so far ahead. All he was thinking about was his own birthday, which came that fine day, his seventh; and he was wondering if Mother would put the seven candles on his cake, and if it would turn out chocolate, which he very much hoped.

About three o'clock of this same day, Mother looked out of the window and said "Good gracious!," which were the very worst words she ever said; and Father looked up from the cider-press which he was mending, and said "By George!", which were the very worst he ever said; and the Toyman looked up from the sick chicken to which he was giving some medicine, and said "Geewhillikens!" And whether or not that was the worst he ever said I do not know. I hope so.

What could they be exclaiming about? _Marmaduke_! He was all alone as far as human beings went, for Jehosophat was putting axle-grease on his little red cart, and Hepzebiah was playing with Hetty, her rag doll, and the rest were busy at their tasks, as we have just seen.