Mrs. Tregennis rose from her seat. “I be so sorry, please, Miss Lavinia,” she said, impulsively, holding out her hands to the little figure, sitting perfectly upright on the Chippendale chair. “Oh, Miss Lavinia, I do be that sorry!” Then, hesitatingly, “If I may make so bold, does it matter, Miss Lavinia?”
It was now Miss Lavinia’s turn to flush. Her eyes were very bright and her chin was uplifted.
“Thank you, Mrs. Tregennis,” she said, and lied bravely; “I am very sorry to lose the children, more sorry than I can tell you, but of course it does not matter in that sense.”
Mrs. Tregennis was relieved. “That’s just what Tom said; he said ’twould be all right in that way, did Tom. Still, I do be very sorry for Tommy to go.”
Mrs. Tregennis moved slowly to the door, then turned again. “Tommy said his piece beautiful this mornin’, Miss Lavinia. Thank you for teachin’ him. It was lovely.”
At first Miss Lavinia was puzzled, then she remembered.
“Why, of course, it’s Tommy’s birthday,” she said, and walked across the room to the polished mahogany table.
From the top of a pile of books she took one that was much smaller than the rest, and had a padded binding of crimson leather. After turning over the pages she put it down in front of Tommy, dipped a pen into the ink, and bade him write his name upon the dotted line, to which she pointed.
“This is my birthday book, Tommy,” she explained, “and when you have written your name there I shall always know when your birthday comes round each year.”