Part 14 (1/2)

”I must have meant another day, miss; I'm careless in my words, often and often.”

”What did she give you, Susy? Do tell me.”

”Only a yard of blue stuff to make a frock for my doll.”

”But how could a yard of blue stuff be pink white and all sorts of colors?”

”Well, miss, I suppose I meant my doll. She's pink and white enough, I'll show her to you, if you like, and then you'll believe me. Shall I run and fetch her to show you, miss?”

”Oh, if you are as sure as all that, you needn't trouble,” said Marjorie.

She left the cottage without even waiting to bid Susy good-by. Eric was still lounging about, waiting for her, and Marjorie ran up to him, all her usual spirits once more s.h.i.+ning in her face.

CHAPTER VIII.

FATHER'S BIRTHDAY.

The great event of the year at Wilton Chase came in the summer. It came just at the time when all the children could enjoy it--when they were all at home and together.

This event was Mr. Wilton's birthday. It had been his custom, as long as any of the children could remember, to devote this day to them. He was their willing slave, their captive to do what they pleased with during the long hours of that summer day.

Aunt Elizabeth, who hated being brought into close contact with what she termed ”unfledged creatures,” generally left the house for that occasion. The oak doors which divided the schoolroom from the grown-up portion of the building were thrown open, and happy rioters might have been seen darting about in all directions. In short, during this day Chaos reigned instead of order. Each child did as he or she liked best, with a reckless disregard to all future consequences.

In preparation for the feasting which went on during father's birthday, nurse was wont to see that all the useful unpleasant nursery bottles were well filled. She sent them to the chemist a week before, and when they were returned, put them grimly away in the cupboard.

”These,” she would remark, ”have nothing to do with father's birthday, but they come in handy the day after.”

Miss Nelson also made preparations for the after effects of this day of unrestraint. She laid in a good store of clean ma.n.u.script paper, for she knew many impositions would have to be written, and she looked well through the poetry books and books of French selections, to see which on an emergency would be suited to the capacities of the delinquents, who would be certain to have to learn them amidst tears and disgrace.

The children's maid, too, laid in stores of b.u.t.tons and hooks, and tapes and ribbons, for the repairing of the clothes which must come to grief in the general riot.

Thus all that the careful elders could do was done, but the children cared for none of these things. To the children the day itself stood before them in all its glory, and they gave no thought or heed to any after-time of reckoning.

Mr. Wilton's birthday arrived in the beginning of the second week of the summer holidays. The first exuberance of joy, therefore, at having the boys at home again, was past, and all the young folk could give themselves up to the ecstasy which the day itself afforded.

”Good-by, Roderick,” said Miss Elizabeth Wilton to her brother. She came in in her neat traveling-dress, and surprised him over a late breakfast.

”Why, where are you off to?” he asked.

”Where am I off to? I'm going to town, of course.”

”To town, in August! What do you mean, Lizzie?”

”You may well shrug your shoulders, and ask me what I mean. _You_, Roderick, are the cause. Your birthday comes to-morrow.”

”Good gracious! And I had forgotten all about it.”

”Well, the children remember it, and so do I. Good-by, Roderick. I'll be home again on Friday evening. I don't want to stay longer in that stifling London than I can help.”

Miss Wilton took her departure, and Mr. Wilton stretched out his hand to the toast-rack, took a piece of toast which he absently broke in two, and once more buried his head in his _Times_. There were a good many interesting items of intelligence this morning, and Mr. Wilton was a keen politician. Between him, however, now, and the clearly printed type of the paper, came the vision of to-morrow.