CHAPTER VIII.
FATHER'S BIRTHDAY.
he great event of the year at Wilton Chase came in the summer. It came just at the time when all the children could enjoy it—when they were all at home and together.
This event was Mr. Wilton's birthday. It had been his custom, as long as any of the children could remember, to devote this day to them. He was their willing slave, their captive to do what they pleased with during the long hours of that summer day.
Aunt Elizabeth, who hated being brought into close contact with what she termed "unfledged creatures," generally left the house for that occasion. The oak doors which divided the schoolroom from the grown-up portion of the building were thrown open, and happy rioters might have been seen darting about in all directions. In short, during this day Chaos reigned instead of order. Each child did as he or she liked best, with a reckless disregard to all future consequences.
In preparation for the feasting which went on during father's birthday, nurse was wont to see that all the useful unpleasant nursery bottles were well filled. She sent them to the chemist a week before, and when they were returned, put them grimly away in the cupboard.
"These," she would remark, "have nothing to do with father's birthday, but they come in handy the day after."