Betty's heart feels lighter than it has for some days past, and she runs downstairs quite briskly.
How eagerly she listens for the postman's knock as she helps Clara prepare the breakfast! "Ah, he's in the street now—I can hear his 'rat-tats'—they're coming nearer. Now he's next door——"
Alas, for poor Betty! The next knock is at the house on the other side.
She darts upstairs. No, there is no letter on the door-mat; there is no letter coming to her at all! Grannie has forgotten the day. Betty could cry with disappointment and vexation.
But this is only the beginning.
Jennie, Pollie, and Harry never remember any birthdays save their own—she had expected nothing from them. But Lucy and Bob, it is hard indeed that they should take no notice of this all-important day which makes her just fifteen years old.
Worse still, Bob is in a thoroughly bad humour; and Lucy, having fallen asleep after Betty awakened her this morning, is ashamed of herself, and eats her breakfast in silence.
Not a word does Betty say to remind them. She is longing intensely for a birthday greeting, but nothing would make her confess it.
"I shouldn't have forgotten their birthdays," she thinks bitterly. "I thought they didn't really care much about me, and this proves it."
"You needn't look at me like that!" cries Bob sharply. "I shan't wash my hands any oftener for you, Miss Particular, in spite of all your naggings!" and he snatches up his cap, and clatters out of the room, banging the door after him.