Just as the key clicked in the lock and the front door opened, a bright face peeped over the baluster from the hall above. "Why, papa," said a dismayed voice, "you're very early and I'm not dressed. I wanted to be at the door to meet you tonight of all nights."
"I'm sorry I'm not welcome, Ruthie," said papa, pretending to be very much hurt. "Shall I go out and walk up and down the block until you are ready to receive me?"
"No, indeed, you absurd boy. I'll be down there in three minutes and a half. Don't get interested in a book, will you, for I want to talk with you."
"Ail right, my dear," replied papa dutifully, and Ruth flew off to her room to put the finishing touches to her toilet.
A few minutes later she appeared in the library with flushed cheeks and very bright eyes. "Now, Popsy, sit down here," she said, leading him to the big armchair and sitting down in front of him. "Do you know what day this is, sir?" she continued, trying to look very stern.
"I think I do," he answered meekly; "it's the seventeenth of
September, I believe."
"And what day is that?" still more sternly.
"That is, why, bless my soul, so it is, that's—-"
"Your birthday," finished Ruth triumphantly. "And we're going to celebrate it just by ourselves. You aren't going out this evening, are you, Popsy?"
"No, dear, I shall be very glad to stay at home with you. I am afraid, though, that I shan't be a very good birthday boy, for there are some business plans that are troubling me, and I want to talk them over with you."