You might think from this that the Whytes were very rich—but if you had seen the simple presents they gave each other! Yet they weren’t silly or rubbishing, though as often as not home-made, and if not home-made, useful and practical—like gloves or neckties—the kind of presents I, I am afraid, would rather have despised. I once heard a rather spoilt little girl call such things “at any rate presents,” meaning that she would have got them any way. But new gloves and so on were too rare among my nine friends for them to be looked on in this way.
“Mother made another rule,” said Charley, who was rather a chatterbox, “at least it wasn’t a settled rule—it was one we might keep or not and nobody need know—it was about birthdays, for everybody on their birthday to promise themselves that they’d do something kind to somebody—I mean something extra, you know, like Addie writing a long letter to old nurse, which is rather a bore. But he did it.”
Addie grew red.
“And,” pursued the irrepressible Charley. “I think I know what Evey’s fixed for her private birthday treat, that’s what we call it. I couldn’t help hearing, Evey—your door was wide open when you were telling Mary. She’s going to ask An—”
“Charley, hush,” cried Evey, for once almost cross. “If you couldn’t help hearing, you could help telling it over. And I hadn’t settled—I haven’t yet.”
“If it’s anything about Anna Gale, I just hope you haven’t settled,” I said, very crossly. “At least I hope you won’t go and do anything that will spoil your birthday for other people.”
Yvonne did not answer, but Mary began talking rather eagerly about a new game we were going to try, and for the time I forgot about Anna Gale.
I was very anxious and important about my present to Evey. I had plenty of pocket-money, and I would have loved to give Evey something very nice. But mamma—I rather think it was papa who put it into her head to say so to me—told me that she did not think it would do to give Yvonne anything very expensive. It might rather annoy the Whytes instead of pleasing them. I felt very disappointed at first, till mamma reminded me that if my real wish was to give pleasure to Evey, I should not risk mingling anything uncomfortable with it.
“That would be selfish,” she said, “pleasing yourself instead of her,” and I saw that that was true.