Mollie Bragg always remembered her eleventh birthday; and she always treasured the cloth doll, the only one she ever owned, and which she at once named “Mrs. Arnold.” There were broiled partridge for dinner, that Mr. Arnold had shot in the ravine two days before; and baked potatoes; there were spiced pears, that Mrs. Arnold had put up the previous autumn; and crisp hot rolls and steaming chocolate, a great luxury. And then a marvelous thing happened.
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When Mollie believed that the dinner was quite over, and was again holding “Mrs. Arnold,” and almost too happy to believe in so much good fortune, Mrs. Arnold went to the pantry and came back bringing a round white-frosted cake, on which stood eleven tiny pink lighted candles.
“O-o-ooh!” again murmured Mollie, as Mrs. Arnold set this wonderful creation in front of her little guest.
“Your birthday cake, Mollie! Wish! Wish for something splendid. Then try to blow all the candles out with one breath, like this,” and Berry puffed out her cheeks and blew so strongly that the little flames wavered. “If all the candle flames go out your wish will come true before your next birthday,” Berry concluded earnestly.
Mollie promptly obeyed Berry’s directions, with such good success that every tiny flame was extinguished.
“Goody! Goody! But you mustn’t tell your wish until next birthday,” cautioned Berry, running around the table and carefully removing the candles from the cake. They were the same candles that had been used on Berry’s own cake on her eleventh birthday in October, and they were55 now carefully put away. For who could tell when it would again be possible to purchase wax candles?
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Then Mrs. Arnold helped Mollie cut the cake, and at the first taste Mollie smiled more radiantly than ever, but quickly put the piece back on her plate.
“Don’t you like it, Mollie?” Berry asked anxiously.
“It’s beautiful!” Mollie replied soberly; “but I’m goin’ ter take it home ter Ma. May I?” she added, a little doubtfully.
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