“And mine comes in November, an’ I’m goin’ to have one whether she likes it or not,” said Doris, on the verge of tears.
“What! no more holidays?” asked Willie, as he came in. He always came and joined the group when he thought there was anything extra on.
“No, dere’s to be no more birthdays or no more excuses for holidays till the end of the year, and it’s only de middle now!” cried Doris.
“Oh, dear! and mine’s at the end of this month!” cried Willie, “and I suppose she won’t let me have one, either. Jolly hard on a fellow when he comes all the way from Sydney, and don’t get a holiday on his birthday.” He looked very glum.
“I’ll tell you what!” cried Eileen, excitedly. “I’ll give up my birthday for Teddo—there you are! Surely we can get one day between now and the end of the year, so we’ll beg off one for Teddo.”
“Oh, Eileen! will you?” they all cried. “That’ll be lovely!”
“That will be great!” said Willie. “But I’ll tell you what—mine comes sooner than yours, so I’ll give mine up. There you are!”
“Oh, Willie, you’re splendid!” cried Eva. “Do you really mean it? True?”
“Of course it’s true. We’ll all go to old school on my birthday, same’s if it was just any other day,” he said, stoutly.
“‘Oh, no, Willie!’ I said first, and perhaps when it comes to the time you might be sorry and want yours,” said Eileen. “You can ‘cry off’ if you don’t want to give yours.”