"I'm afraid now," continued Barbara. Her colour was almost gone and she did not look at Eloise. "I'm afraid that, after all, I can never walk." She indicated the crutches at the foot of her bed by a barely perceptible nod. "I have Aunt Miriam keep them there so that I won't forget."
"Nonsense," cried Eloise. "Allan says that you have every possible chance, so don't be foolish. You're going to walk—you must walk. Why, you mustn't even think of anything else."
"It would seem strange," sighed Barbara, "after almost twenty-two years, why—what day of the month is to-day?"
"The sixteenth."
Twenty-two
"Then it is twenty-two. This is my birthday—I'm twenty-two years old to-day."
"Fairy Godchild, why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I'd forgotten it myself."
"You're too young to begin to forget your birthdays. I'm past thirty, but I still 'keep tab' on mine."
"If you're thirty, I must be at least forty, for I'm really much older than you are. And Roger is an infant in arms compared with me."