"What is the date of your birth, Miss Smith?"
Now Miss Smith's age was a hid treasure, and to be asked to dig it up in this public way was more than she could bear. She blushed a vivid purple.
"It's of no consequence whatever, Mr. Russell," she said. "I really have forgotten my birthday." Mr. Russell went back and put down "birthday forgotten."
"But the year?" he asked again, feeling his whole raison d'être depended on that date.
"Let me see—What year were you born, brother?"
Mr. Smith blinked very often as he answered, wishing to spare his sister.
"I think I had better send you these particulars—if there is—any good to be got by them."
"Oh, never mind," said Toney, seeing the difficulty. "Mr. Russell, please put 'Uncertain.' It isn't easy to remember, if you are asked suddenly how old one is, is it, Mr. Waycott?" Lewis was stifling a smile.
"I am six-and-twenty, I know, because Aunt Honoria keeps my birthdays and announces my age every year."
"Your relative knows that a man does not mind," said Dr. Harris, "but ladies have rooted objections to telling their age." He bowed to Miss Smith, and Miss Smith giggled softly.