The reply was a long time in coming.
"It's your birthday this time, dear."
"For all day and always?"
"For all day long."
Bobby felt of himself all over and then announced wistfully:
"It doesn't not feel any different, having birthdays—not yet."
"Wait, Bobby, until you have had your bath and breakfast, then maybe it will be different."
Bobby didn't mind the bath this time at all, only he was in a tremendous hurry to get through with it, and when he was seated at the table he scampered through breakfast very quickly without being scolded once. He did not even notice that the girl with the little white apron did not bring him things to eat as she had the night before. He was back in the red room with the forty or a dozen red-shaded lights, now all put out, shaking hands with the Man With the Pocketful of Quarters, when the maid came into the room and said:
"It's all ready now, sir."