It was a merry, happy party that assembled in the Mickles' back garden on the following afternoon to partake of tea, and strawberries and cream, not to mention other dainties, including Dora's birthday cake. The principal charm of the whole affair lay in having it out of doors. Dora, in the arbour at the far end of the garden, with her mother at her side, poured out tea, whilst the boys did the waiting, and the little girls of the party, amongst whom were several of Dora's school-fellows, sat on a long form, sheltered from the hot sunshine by a row of kidney beans. Gerald made himself very useful in assisting the Mickle boys, who had good-naturedly volunteered to help entertain their little sister's guests, thus winning Dora's approval, and doing much to obliterate the not altogether favourable opinion she had previously formed of him. She had not wanted to invite him, and Gerald little guessed that Mrs. Mickle had found some difficulty in persuading her to include him in her party, but now she was really glad she had done so.
The white and gold frame had been duly presented, and Dora had expressed herself delighted with it, and had declared her intention of putting her mother's photograph in it, and giving it a prominent position on her bedroom wall. She had received several presents, including a dark tabby Persian kitten from Dinah, which had already been named "Ruffy" by its proud mistress. Only Angel, besides the members of the Mickle household, had known that the kitten had been coming, and great had been every one's anxiety lest it should not have reached Wreyford by Dora's birthday, for it had been ordered from a breeder of Persian cats in London; but Ruffy had come several days before it had been expected, and consequently had been kept safely locked up in an outhouse until the proper time for its appearance in public had arrived. How often Dora had been on the point of discovering the secret of the outhouse! And yet she had never had the faintest suspicion why the door was locked against her, supposing the boys had done it for some reason or other. After tea the children played games, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. Gilbert joined his mother in the arbour by-and-by. He was looking very cheerful and happy to-day, for in trying to amuse his little sister's friends he had forgotten his own grievances; indeed, it had seemed lately that his temper had improved, and he was more contented altogether. He had painted Dora a small picture of a pretty spot near the river, which she had once admired in his hearing—a mossy bank with a hawthorn tree in full bloom—and her pleasure had greatly gratified him, whilst his father had added to his happiness by declaring the sketch remarkably well done.
As he seated himself opposite to his mother on one of the benches which served as seats in the arbour, she looked at him with a smile as she said, "Tired, Gilbert?"
"A little. They're playing 'Last Touch' now, but that's not much in my line. I'm rather too much handicapped for a game of that kind."
She glanced at him in surprise, for he spoke quite cheerfully, with a touch of humour in his tone, and without his usual bitterness.
"So I thought I'd come and talk to you a bit, mother," he added, after a brief pause; "I consider I've earned a rest."
"Yes," she agreed, "I'm sure you have. I'm glad Dora consented to inviting Gerald Willis; he is very amusing, is he not? Dora did not want to ask him, because she said he 'put upon' Angel, as she expressed it; but I'm sure he seems a very nice boy."
"He would be much nicer if only Reginald Hope would let him alone."
"He is very good friends with Tom now?"
"Oh yes, and always would be if Hope did not come between them. Tom can't bear Hope, and he's always trying to get Gerald to break with him; then, naturally, Gerald thinks Tom is prejudiced against Hope."