As Mr.Maynard said, it was the merest coincidence that Marjorie overheard the words without knowing why they were spoken, and there was no possibility of such a thing ever happening again.

So Mrs.Maynard kept her part in the pretty little comedy, but she never repeated those sentences that had so appalled poor Marjorie, without a thrill of sorrow for the child and a thrill of gladness for her quick and safe restoration to them.
And the days hurried on, bringing Marjorie's birthday nearer and nearer.
On the fifteenth of July she would be thirteen years old.
"You see," said Cousin Jack, who was, as usual, Director General of the celebration, "you see, Mehitabel, thirteen is said to be an unlucky number." "And must I be unlucky all the year ?" asked Marjorie, in dismay.
"On the contrary, my child.

We will eradicate the unluck from the number,--we will cut the claws of the tiger,--and draw the fangs of the serpent.

In other words, we shall so override and overrule that foolish superstition about thirteen being unlucky that we shall prove the contrary." "Hooray for you, Cousin Jack! I'm lucky to have you around for this particular birthday, I think." "You're always lucky, Mehitabel, and you always will be.

You see, this business they call Luck is largely a matter of our own will-power and determination.