Hilda sat by the side of her Scotch cavalier, who had taken her in, and who was much concerned when he found that she had no appetite, but less distressed when he found that that fact did not affect his.
Once during the meal, Hilda heard their mother ask Maisie, as she helped her cut the birthday cake, what was in her cracker, and Maisie replied, as she looked up from her struggles, "What cracker?" but then, in her anxiety to know why Hilda refused to taste any of her cake till the morrow, she did not pursue the subject.
After tea more excitement, for there was Mr. Punch and his company, who were in excellent form.
"Oi, Oi, Oi!" repeated that gentleman for the dozenth time, as he bobbed about aimlessly, in his anxiety to hit the clown and take the patient Toby between his jointless arms.
Later on, the eyelids of the party children began to grow heavy, though the eyes remained unnaturally bright; and tempers became less even and more natural. And so, like everything else, the birthday party came to an end, and "Good-byes" were said with regret. That night cots and beds were not despised, nor did they prove unwelcome for once, for little tired heads were rested gratefully on cool pillows. Maisie was an exception; she tossed about on hers, too happy and excited to get to sleep, whilst Hilda, worn out, lay on her back with her mouth wide open, breathing heavily, and dreaming.
Hilda dreamt that she was alone in a boat on a ruffled lake. On a white flag in the prow was a motto printed large, but upside down. She dreamt that all around the frail craft, which rocked on the stormy waters, were grinning crocodiles wearing broken crowns made of pink coral and green fluttering paper. She crouched low and tried to hide, for she knew that if the horrid creatures found her out she was lost for ever. Land was quite close, but she didn't know how to get there, because her frock was made of red crackling stuff, which glistened and made a noise whenever she moved.
She felt sick with fright, and sobbed and moaned at her terrible plight, and sobbing, she woke to find that it was quite dark, that the moon was shining on Maisie smiling in her sleep, and that she herself had been dreaming.
At breakfast next morning, Maisie and their mother were already seated when Hilda silently took her place next her chattering little sister; but it seemed to her that their mother looked unusually grave. When Hilda lifted the cover off her bread and milk bowl, Maisie suddenly looked in it and exclaimed: "Oh, how pretty." But Hilda turned very red, and she hung her head ashamed. For in the bowl there was no bread and milk—nothing but a crumpled red glazed paper with a hateful picture of a smiling crocodile, something pink and green, a tiny paper ball of printed paper, and a stiff thing sticking up—easily guessed at, but now blurred and indistinct to Hilda's tearful view.
"Oh, Maisie," she sobbed, "it was your crack—cracker. I—I took it from your table. Do forgive me—I've been so—so very miserable."
And their mother, rising gently and saying nothing, quickly took the proofs of wrong-doing away, whilst Hilda felt Maisie's arm creep round her neck and Maisie's kisses on her wet cheek....