“Oh, I forgot,” said Phyllis. She ran out into the living room, and returned with a large parcel. “Many happy returns,” she said, laying it in front of Martin. If you listen intently, behind the innocent little phrase you can overhear, like a whispering chorus, the voices of innumerable parents: “And don’t forget, when you give it to him, to say Many happy returns.”
The others also hurried to get the packages that had been left in the vestibule. There was a great rattling of paper and untying of string; an embarrassed reiteration of thankyous by Martin. He felt it awkward to say the same thing again for each gift.
Hearing the movement in the dining room, the grown-ups had now come in.
“Such a pretty sight.”
“I love children’s parties, their faces are always a picture.”
“Martin, did you say thank you to Alec for that lovely croquet set?”
“This is what I gave him,” said Ben, pushing forward the parcheesi board.
“The girls are so dainty, like little flowers.”
“Who is the little dark one, over by the window?”
“That’s Joyce.—Why, Joyce dear, what are you crying about?”