It grew darker and darker. The katydids began their endless quarrel in
the trees. A night-owl hooted dismally over in the woods. The children
stopped talking, and sat in anxious silence. Presently Bud edged up
closer, and put a sympathetic arm around his brother. A moment after, he
began to cry.

"What you snufflin' for?" asked John Jay savagely. "'Tain't yo'
buthday."

"But I'm afraid you ain't goin' to have any eithah," sobbed the little
fellow, strangely wrought upon by this long silent waiting in the
darkness.

"Aw, you go 'long to bed," said John Jay, with a careless, grown-up air.
"If anything comes I'll wake you up. No use for two of us to be settin'
heah."

Bud was sleepy, and crept away obediently; but the day was spoiled, and
he went to bed sore with his brother's disappointment.

John Jay sat down again to keep his lonely tryst. He looked up at the
faithless stars. They had failed to help him, but in his desperation he
determined to appeal to them once more. So he picked out the seven
largest ones he could see and repeated very slowly, in a voice that
would tremble, the old charm:

"Star-light, star bright,
Seventh star I've seen to-night;
I wish I may and I wish I might