"Not for a whole year," said Mamma.

"I wish it would come to-morrow."

Mamma shook her head at her. "You want to be spoiled and petted every
day."

"No. No. I want--I want--"

"She doesn't know what she wants," said Jenny.

"Yes. I do. I _do_."

"Well--"

"I want to love Papa every day. 'Cause he gave me my lamb."

"Oh," said Mamma, "if you only love people because they give you
birthday presents--"

"But I don't--I don't--really and truly--"

"You didn't ought to have no more birthdays," said Jenny, "if they make
you cry."

Why couldn't they see that crying meant that she wanted Papa to be
sacred and holy every day?

The day after the birthday when Papa went about the same as ever,
looking big and frightening, when he "Baa'd" into her face and called