up for it. Look at the rector! Look at Piers! Look at me! Aren't we trig?" She was all alive. She grinned at them, with the malicious and flashing grin for which the Courts had been famous.
Meg approached her and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "I had heard nothing of any birthday," she said, coldly.
"Maurice," exclaimed Grandmother, "haven't you brought a birthday present for your daughter? Are you going to neglect old Baby just because new Baby's on the scene?"
Maurice slouched forward somewhat sheepishly. "I must do something about it," he said.
Pheasant's little face was scarlet with embarrassment. She surveyed the family with the startled, timid gaze of a young wild thing.
"She's blessed," said Piers glumly, "for she expects nothing."
Grandmother absorbed this saying. "H'm," she said. She swallowed a piece of crumpet, and then added: "It's the unexpected that happens. She's going to get a present. And from me!"
A chill of apprehension fell on the company.
Mr. Fennel, feeling it, observed: "There's nothing so pleasant, I think, as an unexpected present." But even to himself his words sounded lame. He could utter no ghostly comfort that would calm these troubled waters.
Old Adeline finished her crumpet with dispatch, drank another cup of tea. Then she demanded: "How old are you?"
"Twenty." Despite Renny's encouraging look, the word came in a whisper.
"Twenty, eh? Sweet and twenty! I was twenty once—ha! 'Come and kiss me, sweet and twenty! Youth's a stuff will not'—what was it? My old memory's gone. Come here, my dear!"
Pheasant went to her, trembling.
Adeline spread out her hands, palms down, and examined her rings. Meg, with unaccustomed agility, sprang to her side. "Granny, Granny," she breathed,
