“Well, I’m going to try and remember Becky’s and Tiza’s birthdays,” said Milly. “I’ll tell mother to put them down in her pocket-book—won’t you, mother? Oh, what fun! I’ll send them birthday cards, and they’ll be so surprised, and wonder why; and then they’ll say, ‘Oh, why, of course it’s our birthday!’—No, not our birthday—but you know what I mean, father.”
“Well, but, Milly,” asked Mrs. Norton, “have you made up your mind what you want to do this birthday?”
Milly stopped suddenly, with her hands behind her, opposite her mother, with her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes smiling, as if there was a tremendous secret hidden somewhere.
“Well, monkey, out with it. What have you got hidden away in your little head?”
“Well, mother,” said Milly, slowly, “I don’t want to have anybody to tea. I want to go out to tea with somebody. Now can you guess?”
“With Aunt Emma?”
“Oh no, Aunt Emma’s coming over here all day. She promised she would.”
“With Becky and Tiza?”
Milly nodded, and screwed up her little lips tighter than ever.
“But I don’t expect Mrs. Backhouse will want the trouble of having you two to tea.