"I hope you didn't think I was hinting for father to be asked here. He would be awfully angry if he knew I had said that about having just you and him."
"I am sure you were not hinting," said Kathleen, heartily. "And you shall have that party when we come back, so you will lose nothing by putting it off. Now what is it?"—seeing the old wistful look on the boy's face.
"Will father ever come here with me?"
"Indeed I cannot tell, Ralph," replied Kathleen. "Perhaps when I have a birthday party."
Kathleen had for a moment imagined that Ralph's wish to have only herself and his father had been suggested by the latter. The boy's whispered question convinced her to the contrary. But when she came to think of what she had said about a future birthday of her own, and the possibility of John Torrance's presence, she felt anything but happy. The remark, if repeated by Ralph to his father, might create an impression widely different from what was meant by her. Everybody knew that in a few months she would be of age, and Captain Torrance might imagine that the first use she meant to make of her full womanhood would be to open the doors of the Hall to a guest whom her guardians declined to receive there in the meanwhile.
Yet Kathleen had only thought of pleasing Ralph by speaking of both their birthdays.
Naturally the boy told his father what had passed, and Captain Torrance was more than contented to bide his time.
Though the party was put off, Ralph was made wildly happy by the gift of a beautiful watch, a gold hunter, strong and suitable for a boy's use, but goodly to look upon. There was his monogram on the back, and inside a little inscription to say that it was to "Ralph Torrance, from his friend, K. D. M."
On the whole he was happy, for his father had promised to remain some little time at Monk's How, and then, probably, to take him away.
At the fortnight's end, however, Ralph was left behind, but such neighbours as were at home were kind to the boy.