<h2><SPAN name="A_BIRTHDAY_STORY" id="A_BIRTHDAY_STORY"></SPAN>A BIRTHDAY STORY</h2>
<p>If it had not been Maisie's birthday this story
could never have been written. But the day had
come for her to be five years old, and, like every
child of that age, she could no more help having
a fifth birthday than she could imagine having it
without a party. At present she was unconscious
of all the delights in store, because it was only just
dawn, and her curls were still tumbled about her
flushed face on the pillow, and her eyes were still
fast closed in sleep.</p>
<p>But in a small bed quite close to hers there was a
little girl, who was very wide awake indeed, as she
leant over with neck outstretched, gazing eagerly
at all the beautiful things so temptingly displayed
on a table at the foot of Maisie's cot—presents
from every one in the house: Hilda's box of beads
bought with her own money; a long-promised
story-book resplendent in bright blue and brilliant
in gold; some new furniture for the doll's house;
and a something that glittered strangely—Hilda
nearly toppled over in her curiosity to see it.
She found it to be a big red cracker with a funny<span class="pagenum">[169]</span>
coloured portrait of a smirking crocodile stuck on
the outside. "What lovely things!" she thought,
"and all for Maisie!"</p>
<p>In two months' time Hilda was going to celebrate
<i>her</i> birthday and be eight years old, and have
a fuss made over <i>her</i>. But two whole months
seemed such a long way off—such a very long
time to wait! Into her dark eyes there came a
strange look of envy and longing, and her handsome
face with the resolute expression contrasted
strangely with her sister's as she turned anxiously
towards the fair little sleeper.</p>
<p>Holding her breath, Hilda crept slowly down on
to the floor, stealthily approached the table, and
seized the beautiful cracker. "Surely that would
not be missed," she reflected. Just then Maisie
stirred uneasily, which brought a flush of shame to
the elder girl's cheeks; but hearing nothing further,
Hilda jumped into bed and pushed the cracker
under her own pillow. The crackling of the paper
woke Maisie, who sat up, and in the middle of
a big yawn espied the table, and remembered the
great event. "Oh, Hilda," she exclaimed, "just
look!" She was too excited as she handled her
treasures to notice that Hilda never stirred, that
she only answered shortly, "Yes, I know," and
didn't even volunteer to say whom the beads came
from.<span class="pagenum">[170]</span></p>
<p>During the whole morning Maisie's excitement
continued; she hopped about everywhere, watching
the arrangements for the afternoon party, and
chattering about who were coming; so much so,
that do what she would, Hilda could obtain no
opportunity of being alone so that she might
satisfy her burning curiosity as to what was inside
the cracker. She had dropped it behind the toy-box
in the nursery, and there it lay, whilst all the
time Maisie could not understand what made her
sister so restless and impatient.</p>
<p>Immediately after lunch, however, Hilda was
able to satisfy her longing at last. She picked up
the cracker and hurriedly opened it. What first
came to light was a big sweet wrapped in a printed
motto: "Always do what is right and you will be
happy." She read it with a pang of mental shame,
which was quickly followed by one of physical
discomfort, for she had popped the sweet into her
mouth and now would as quickly have popped
it out again, only it was too late, as she had already
swallowed the horrid thing, which was filled with a
liquid that tasted of bad scent. Making a wry
face, she rolled up the offending motto into a tiny
ball and threw it into the empty grate. Still,
it was soothing to find in the cracker a neatly
rolled up packet of pink and green paper, which
evidently formed something amusing—a bonnet, a<span class="pagenum">[171]</span>
cap, or perhaps an apron. At the same time she
drew forth the "cracking thing," which she loved
to pull and hear it go "crack." But she always did
so at arm's length with her head turned away, and
she was too frightened to pull it all by herself.</p>
<p>Their nurse's voice was heard calling Maisie to
come up and be dressed. Hilda, with a guilty, conscience-stricken
look, had barely time to throw the
useless "cracking thing" out of the open window,
and to hide the rest of the cracker in the first thing
at hand (which happened to be the doll's house),
when they both entered laughing and carried her
off too, to be curled and be-ribboned for the party.</p>
<p>"I've seen my birthday cake, Hilda," cried Maisie,
capering about. "It's booful!" But Hilda still
tasted that nauseous liqueur from the sweet, and
couldn't enter into any pleasing ideas of cake.</p>
<p>Ready first, she ran into the nursery, curious as
ever as to the pink and green paper bundle, took it
out, unfolded it, and found that it would have formed
a crown—only it didn't join together; she had torn
it in her hurry. She stamped her foot with vexation,
and was wondering if she could stick the two ends
together when that tiresome Maisie came running
in from the next room with one of her new bronze
shoes on to show how beautiful it looked. Quick
as lightning Hilda had to hide her secret again.</p>
<p>"What are you doing with the doll's house?<span class="pagenum">[172]</span>
Look at my new shoe!" exclaimed Maisie all in a
breath.</p>
<p>And Hilda made a great fuss over the new shoe,
and felt horridly out of temper.</p>
<p>Punctually on the stroke of three, the first of
the birthday party began to arrive—two little girl
cousins, who at once begged to be allowed to see if
there was anything new in the doll's house. Hilda's
heart sank at these words, and she tried to draw
their attention away, but to no avail, for Maisie,
moving towards it, said they must see the new
treasure there. With difficulty and something like
a scuffle Hilda, grown desperate, prevented her from
opening it, and managed to do so herself, quickly
stuffing the bunch of paper into her pocket without
being noticed. Much admiration was bestowed on
the new addition—a little motor car which had been
conveniently placed in the kitchen of the doll's house
ready to take out for an airing the little china lady
and gentleman who sat so rigidly and smiled so
vacantly in the storey above.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Hilda was inwardly owning to a feeling
akin to dislike for the very thought of that
cracker, for the paper was bulging out her pocket,
flatten it as she would. She was not happy, for
never before had she done anything underhand. In
fact she always tried to be an example for her young
sister, and she already regretted having given way to<span class="pagenum">[173]</span>
the momentary impulse of envy. However, there
was no time now for thoughts or remorse, and when
she reached the drawing-room she forgot all about
her trouble in helping to receive the guests.</p>
<p>Eight little girls were grouped in one corner of
the room whispering, with eyes busily engaged staring
at one another's sashes; whilst eight little boys
had flocked together and were looking sheepishly
from out of an opposite corner. One boy, however—who
had been gazing long at Hilda—with heroic
resolution detached himself from his kind, and
entered the rival camp, where he was welcomed
with pleasure and interest. He was a young Highlander,
with sandy hair and many freckles, but his
attraction was great, for he wore his native costume.
The jewelled hilt of a dagger showed above one plaid
stocking, and on his shoulder he wore a fascinating
brooch with a large brown stone, which was the envy
and admiration of all the little ladies present.</p>
<p>Suddenly the guests were all swooped upon by a
big lady, Maisie's mother, mixed up, and disentangled
into couples; a piano was set going, and
they danced, hopped, and twirled about, wondering
if they liked it; the girls thought they did, and the
boys were sure they didn't—all except the Scotch
boy, who had constituted himself Hilda's devoted
partner, and was enjoying it immensely. The polka
finished, these two sat chatting merrily at the<span class="pagenum">[174]</span>
window, when all at once Hilda became silent. She
happened to catch sight of something sticking out
of the ivy on the sill. It was the "cracking thing"
which she had thrown from the window above. Her
partner was surprised to see her look as though she
were going to cry. She didn't dare do that.</p>
<p>Just then tea was announced. Weighty recollection
of warnings from home-counsellors came to the
minds of the children, which warnings, however,
conveniently faded away at sight of the good things
set forth so temptingly in the dining-room: custards,
jellies, and all those concoctions beloved of the
youthful interior. But the chief interest centred in
Maisie's gorgeous cake, which had her name and age
flowingly written in coloured sugar, surrounded by
the most realistic and sweetest of red roses imaginable,
nestling in the coolest-looking golden leaves.</p>
<p>Hilda sat by the side of her Scotch cavalier, who
had taken her in, and who was much concerned
when he found that she had no appetite, but less distressed
when he found that that fact did not affect his.</p>
<p>Once during the meal, Hilda heard their mother
ask Maisie, as she helped her cut the birthday cake,
what was in her cracker, and Maisie replied, as she
looked up from her struggles, "What cracker?"
but then, in her anxiety to know why Hilda refused
to taste any of her cake till the morrow, she did not
pursue the subject.<span class="pagenum">[175]</span></p>
<p>After tea more excitement, for there was Mr.
Punch and his company, who were in excellent form.</p>
<p>"Oi, Oi, Oi!" repeated that gentleman for the
dozenth time, as he bobbed about aimlessly, in his
anxiety to hit the clown and take the patient Toby
between his jointless arms.</p>
<p>Later on, the eyelids of the party children began
to grow heavy, though the eyes remained unnaturally
bright; and tempers became less even and more
natural. And so, like everything else, the birthday
party came to an end, and "Good-byes" were said
with regret. That night cots and beds were not
despised, nor did they prove unwelcome for once,
for little tired heads were rested gratefully on
cool pillows. Maisie was an exception; she tossed
about on hers, too happy and excited to get to sleep,
whilst Hilda, worn out, lay on her back with her
mouth wide open, breathing heavily, and dreaming.</p>
<p>Hilda dreamt that she was alone in a boat on a
ruffled lake. On a white flag in the prow was a
motto printed large, but upside down. She dreamt
that all around the frail craft, which rocked on the
stormy waters, were grinning crocodiles wearing
broken crowns made of pink coral and green fluttering
paper. She crouched low and tried to hide, for
she knew that if the horrid creatures found her out
she was lost for ever. Land was quite close, but she
didn't know how to get there, because her frock was<span class="pagenum">[176]</span>
made of red crackling stuff, which glistened and
made a noise whenever she moved.</p>
<p>She felt sick with fright, and sobbed and moaned
at her terrible plight, and sobbing, she woke to find
that it was quite dark, that the moon was shining
on Maisie smiling in her sleep, and that she herself
had been dreaming.</p>
<p>At breakfast next morning, Maisie and their
mother were already seated when Hilda silently
took her place next her chattering little sister; but
it seemed to her that their mother looked unusually
grave. When Hilda lifted the cover off her bread
and milk bowl, Maisie suddenly looked in it and
exclaimed: "Oh, how pretty." But Hilda turned very
red, and she hung her head ashamed. For in the
bowl there was no bread and milk—nothing but a
crumpled red glazed paper with a hateful picture of
a smiling crocodile, something pink and green, a tiny
paper ball of printed paper, and a stiff thing sticking
up—easily guessed at, but now blurred and indistinct
to Hilda's tearful view.</p>
<p>"Oh, Maisie," she sobbed, "it was your crack—cracker.
I—I took it from your table. Do forgive
me—I've been so—so very miserable."</p>
<p>And their mother, rising gently and saying
nothing, quickly took the proofs of wrong-doing
away, whilst Hilda felt Maisie's arm creep round her
neck and Maisie's kisses on her wet cheek....<span class="pagenum">[177]</span></p>
<p>And in her repentance her fault was forgiven.</p>
<p>Two months later, Hilda found amongst the presents
on her birthday table a lovely cracker made of
silver paper with a little heart of real gold attached
with a blue ribbon on the outside. And then Hilda
ran and whispered eagerly in her mother's ear, who
looked very pleased and kissed her. And Maisie
was surprised and happy too, for Hilda put in her
hand the lovely cracker with its little heart of gold
for her very own to keep.</p>
<hr class="chapter">
<span class="pagenum">[178]</span>
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