When Pauline was in bed that night her mother lingered after Margaret and Monica had left her room.
"Are you glad, darling, you are going to give Guy such a charming birthday present to-morrow?" she asked.
"It's your present," said Pauline. "Because I couldn't possibly give myself unless you wanted me to. You know that, don't you, Mother? You do know that, don't you?"
"I want you to be my happy Pauline," her mother whispered. "And I think that with Guy you will be my happy Pauline."
"Oh, Mother, I shall, I shall. I love him so. Mother, what about Father? He simply won't say anything to me. To-day I helped him with transplanting, and I've been helping a lot lately ... with the daffodil bulbs when we came back from Ladingford, and all sorts of things. But he simply won't say a word."
"Francis is always like that," her mother replied. "Even when he first was in love with me. Really, he never proposed ... we somehow got married. I think the best thing will be for you and Guy to go up to his room after lunch to-morrow, before he goes out in the garden; then you can show him your ring."
"Oh, Mother, tell me what ring it is that Guy has found for me."
"It's charming ... charming ... charming," said her mother enthusiastically.
"Oh, I won't ask, but I'm longing to see it. Mother, what do you think it will be? Oh, but you know, so I mustn't ask you to guess. Oh, I do hope Margaret and Monica will like it."
"It's charming ... charming ... and now go to sleep."