It was late on the following evening when Pauline found herself alone with Briar and Patty. Both these little girls had plenty of character; but perhaps Patty had more of that estimable quality than her sister. They were both straightforward¹ by nature, upright and noble, and were already benefiting by the discipline which had at last come into their lives. The glories of the birthday which was so near were already beginning to shed some of their rays over Pauline, and her sisters felt themselves quite honored by her company.  
“To think,” said Briar, “that you are really only Paulie! I can scarcely bring myself to believe it.”
 
“Why so?” asked Pauline.
 
“In twelve hours’ time—in less—you will be a queen.”
 
“It is rather like the Lord Mayor,” said Patty. “It’s all very grand, but it lasts for a very short time. Aunt Sophy was telling us to-day about the Lord Mayor and the great, tremendous Show, and I began to think of Pauline and her birthday. I could not help myself. It is a pity that a birthday should only last such a very short time!”
 
“Yes, that is the worst of it,” said Pauline. “But then it comes every year. Perhaps it is all for the best that it should have a quick come and a quick go. Of course, I shall be very happy to-morrow, but I dare say I shall be glad when the next day arrives.”
 
“Not you,” said Briar. “I have known what the next day 108meant, even when we had only shilling birthdays. The others used to cry out, ‘Your birthday is the farthest off now.’ I used to keep my head covered under the bedclothes rather than hear them say it. Adelaide and Josephine always said it. But don’t let’s get melancholy² over it now,” continued Briar in a sympathetic tone. “When you lie down to-night you won’t be able to sleep much; but you will sleep like a top to-morrow night. I expect you will wake about every two minutes to-night. Oh, it is exciting the night before a birthday! Even when we had shilling birthdays I used to wake the night before every few minutes. Once I got up at four o’clock in the morning. I went out. I had a cold afterwards, and a bad sore throat, but I never told anybody how I got it. If I was excited about my poor little birthday, what will you be to-morrow?”
 
“I don’t know,” said Pauline. “Listen, girls. I am so excited in one sense that I couldn’t be any more so. I am so excited that I’m not excited. Can you understand what I mean?”
 
“No, I’m sure I can’t a bit,” said Briar.
 
“And it’s quite likely,” continued Pauline, “that I shall have no sleep at all the night after my birthday.”
 
“What do you mean now?” asked Briar.
 
Pauline looked mysterious. The two girls glanced at her. Suddenly Pauline put one arm around Briar’s neck and the other arm round Patty’s neck.
 
“You are the nicest of us all—that is, of course, except Verena,” she said. “I have always been fonder of you two than of Adelaide or Josephine or Helen or Lucy. As to Pen, well, I don’t suppose any of us feel to Pen as we do to the rest. She is so different. Yes, I love you two. I love you just awfully³.”
 
“It is sweet of you to say that; and, seeing that you are to have a birthday so soon, it makes us feel sort of distinguished,” said Briar.
 
“How old are you, Briar?”
 
“I’ll be thirteen next May. That’s a long time off. I do wish my birthday had waited until Aunt Sophy came on the scene.”
 
“And my birthday comes in the winter,” said Patty—“near Christmas; but I dare say Aunt Sophy will give us a good time then, too.”
 
“I do like her awfully,” said Pauline. “Now, girls, I want to ask you a question. I know you won’t tell, for you are not the sort to tell.”
 
“Of course we won’t tell, Paulie.”
 
“And you love me, don’t you?”
 
“Yes,” echoed both little girls.
 
“This is my question. If I do something that is not just exactly absolutely right, will you still love me?”109
 
“Why, of course. We’re not so wonderfully good ourselves,” said Briar.
 
“I know what you are thinking of,” said Patty. “You are thinking of Punishment Day. But we have forgotten all about that.”
 
“I was thinking of Punishment Day. And now I want to say something. I want to make the most tremendous confidence. I want to tell you the most tremendous secret.”
 
“Oh!” echoed both.
 
“Light that candle, Briar,” said Pauline.
 
Briar crossed the room, struck a match, lit the candle, and then turned to see what her darling Paulie wished further.
 
“Bring it right over here,” said Pauline. “Put it on this table.”
 
Briar did so.
 
“Kneel down, Briar, so that the light from the candle falls full on your face.”
 
Briar knelt. Her eyes were beaming with happiness.
 
“Look at me,” said Pauline.
 
Briar raised two honest and pretty brown eyes to her sister’s face.
 
“I think,” said Pauline slowly, “that you are the sort of girl to make a promise—a solemn, awfully solemn promise—and stick to it.”
 
“Yes; you are right. I am made that way,” said Briar proudly.
 
“I see you are. Patty, will you kneel so that the candle may shine on your face?”
 
Patty hurried to obey.
 
“I am made like that, too,” she said. “I always was like that. When I said I wouldn’t tell, you might pinch me black and blue, but it didn’t change me. Pen has tried to run pins into me sometimes to make me tell. Pen is the only one who would tell when she promised not.”
 
“I think so,” said Pauline decidedly. “Pen would not do at all. Girls, I shall come to you to-morrow evening. To-morrow evening, very late, I will come to you here. Perhaps you will have gone to bed, but that won’t matter. I will come to you whether you are in bed or whether you are up; and I will claim your promise. You will do what I ask, and you will never, never, never tell. You must help me. You will—oh, you will!”
 
“Of course,” said Briar. “Darling Paulie, don’t cry. Oh, how the pet is trembling! Patty, she’s trembling like anything. Do kiss her and hug her, and tell her there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for her.”
 
“There’s nothing in all the world we wouldn’t do for you,” said Patty.110
 
They both kissed her so often and with such deep affection that she found herself leaning on their innocent strength. She would not tell them yet; she would tell them just before the time to-morrow evening. Of course they would go with her. Pen would never do. It would be madness to confide⁴ in Pen.
 
Notwithstanding her excitement Pauline did sleep soundly that night before her birthday. No sooner had her head touched the pillow than sweet unconsciousness visited her. She slept without dreaming, and was at last awakened⁷ by the shouts of her sisters.
 
“Paulie, get up. It’s your birthday. Oh, do dress yourself fast! There’s such a lot of fun going on! We are to have a whole holiday, and Aunt Sophy is so delightful⁸. And what do you think? She has dragged father out of his study, and he is standing⁶ in the very middle of the lawn. He has a huge, untidy-looking parcel in his hands, and he looks as if he didn’t in the least know what to do with it. He is trying each moment to escape back into the house, but Aunt Sophy won’t let him. She says he must not stir until you come down. Poor father does look in misery⁹. Be quick and dress and come downstairs.”
 
At this moment there was a shout from below, and the three girls who had summoned Pauline from the land of dreams rushed off, dashing through the house with whoops¹⁰ of triumph.
 
Pauline rose and dressed quickly. She put on the pretty pale lavender print frock that Aunt Sophia had decided⁵ she was to wear, and went downstairs. When she joined the others Mr. Dale greeted her with one of his slow, sweet smiles.
 
“How are you, darling?” he said. “I have a sort of idea that I am kept standing here on this lawn, exposed to the heat of a very powerful sun, on your account.”
 
“Of course it is on Pauline’s account, Henry,” said Miss Sophia. “It is her birthday. Kiss me, Pauline, dear. Many happy returns of the day. Henry, give your daughter her present. She is fourteen to-day.”
 
“Fourteen! Ah!” said Mr. Dale, “a charming age. The ancients considered a woman grown-up at fourteen.”
 
“But no one is so silly in these days,” said Miss Tredgold. “We know that a girl is never more childish than at fourteen. Henry, open that parcel and give Pauline what it contains.”
 
Mr. Dale dropped the brown-paper parcel at his feet. He looked at it in bewilderment.
 
“It is heavy,” he said. “I haven’t the least idea what is in it.”
 
“It is your present to your daughter.”
 
“Ah!” said Mr. Dale, “I forgot; and I packed it myself last night. My child, I wonder if you are worthy¹² of it.”111
 
“I don’t suppose I am, father,” said Pauline.
 
“For goodness’ sake open it, Henry, and don’t torture the child’s feelings.”
 
“I put it in an old bandbox,” said Mr. Dale. “I couldn’t find anything else. Pauline, in giving you what I am about to give you, I show a high appreciation¹³ of your character. I remember now what my present is. I had an awful night in consequence of it. I felt as though one of my limbs was being severed¹⁴ from my body. Nevertheless, my dear, I don’t retract¹⁵ nor go back, for that is not my way. I give you this most noble gift with a distinct object. I have lately been examining all your foreheads. Although I have appeared to take little notice of you, I have watched you as day by day I have enjoyed the excellent food provided by your most worthy aunt. While my body was feeding, my mind was occupying itself, and I have at last come to the decision that you, my child, are the only one of my young people who has been blessed with a classical brow. As yet you have not even begun to learn the language of the ancients; but now that you have reached the mature age of fourteen, I shall be pleased to instruct you myself for one hour daily, in both that Latin and Greek which delighted our forefathers¹⁶.”
 
“But the Romans and Greeks were not our forefathers,” said Miss Tredgold.
 
She snapped out the words quite angrily, and the look on her aunt’s face caused Pauline to go closer to her father and take one of his long white hands and hold it close to her heart.
 
“It doesn’t matter whether we are descended¹⁷ from them or not, does it, Padre?” she said.
 
“All that is noble in thought, all that is original, all that partakes of inspiration, has come down to us from the classics,” said Mr. Dale. “But take your gift, Pauline. Now, my dear children, I beseech¹⁸ of you, don’t keep me any longer from my important work.”
 
He was striding towards the house, when Verena got in front of him, Briar stood at his left hand, Patty at his right, and Adelaide, Josephine, Lucy, Helen, and Penelope came up in the rear.
 
“You don’t stir,” they cried, “until Paulie opens her parcel.”
 
So Pauline knelt down on the grass, untied¹⁹ the clumsy cord, and removed the brown paper. She then lifted ............