CHAPTER XII.
AFTER THE BIRTHDAY.
he usual effects of a holiday were visible the next morning. The children were all a little tired and out of sorts. It was difficult for the schoolroom party to get into harness again, and even Eric and the nursery children were somewhat captious and discontented.
"Father's birthday is the farthest off of all now," said little Molly, the five-year-old darling. "There's no birthday like father's, and it's the farthest off of all. I'm dreadful sorry."
"Oh, shut up," said Eric. "Who wants to hear that dismal dirge."
"Molly says that about the birthdays always the next morning," volunteered Dick, who was a year older, and who wanted to curry favor with Eric by agreeing with him. "Molly is a silly, isn't she?" he added, fixing his big blue eyes admiringly on his brother.
"You're a greater," snapped Eric. "Who cried yesterday when the ant stung him, and who would eat too much plumcake?"