"I'd like Frances myself."
"Frances is the stay-at-home daughter. She cannot be spared. It will be Amy, and I will let Miriam go with you, and Eva, who is the youngest, can wait for her turn some other day."
"Is that Burden's cart going down the lane?" inquired Grace, looking out the window, "It's queer how many errands Mr. Burden's had here lately. I believe he's been investing in another cart, or else he has painted the old one. Business must be brisk. There come papa, and Dr. Raeburn with him. Why, mother, all the Raeburns are coming! If there is to be company, I might have been told."
"So might I," said Mrs. Wainwright, with spirit. "Hurry, Grace, bring me some cologne and water to wash my face and hands, and give me my rose-pink wrapper. Turn the key in the door, dearie. An invalid should never be seen except looking her best. You can slip away and get into a tea gown before you meet them, if they are coming to supper. Whose birthday is it? This seems to be a surprise party."
"Why, mamma—it's my birthday; but you don't think there's anything on foot that I don't know of—do you, dearest?"
"I wouldn't like to say what I think, my pet. There, the coast is clear. Run away and change your gown. Whoever wished to see me now may do so. The queen is ready to give audience. Just wheel my chair a little to the left, so that I can catch the last of that soft pink after-glow."
"And were you really entirely unprepared, Grace," said the girls later, "and didn't you ever for a single moment notice anything whatsoever we were doing?"
"Never for one instant. I missed my Tennyson and my French Bible, but thought Eva had borrowed them, and in my wildest imagination I never dreamed you would furnish a lovely big room at the top of the house all for me, my own lone self. It doesn't seem right for me to accept it."
"AND HERE IS SOMETHING ELSE—FROM ME TO MY DAUGHTER."