Milly and Olly Part 18

"I don't suppose Spot would thank you at all," said Mr. Norton. "The cream would make her ill, and the ribbon would fidget her dreadfully till she pulled it off."

"Oh dear!" sighed Milly. "Well, I suppose Spot had better not have any birthday then. But, father, what do you think? Becky and Tiza don't care about their birthdays a bit. Becky could hardly remember when hers was, and they never have any presents unless Aunt Emma gives them one, or people to tea, or anything.'

"Well, you see, Milly, when people have only just pennies and s.h.i.+llings enough to buy bread and meat to eat, and clothes to put on, they can't go spending money on presents; and when they're very anxious and busy all the year round they can't be remembering birthdays and taking pains about them like richer people can, who have less to trouble them, and whose work does not take up quite so much time."

"Well, but why don't the rich people remember the poor people's birthdays for them, father? Then they could give them presents, and ask them to tea and all, you know."

"Yes, that would be a very good arrangement," said Mr. Norton, smiling at her eager little face. "Only, somehow, Milly, things don't come right like that in this world."

"Well, I'm going to try and remember Becky's and Tiza's birthdays," said Milly. "I'll tell mother to put them down in her pocket-book--won't you, mother? Oh, what fun! I'll send them birthday cards, and they'll be so surprised, and wonder why; and then they'll say, 'Oh, why, of course it's our birthday!'--No, not _our_ birthday--but you know what I mean, father."

"Well, but, Milly," asked Mrs. Norton, "have you made up your mind what you want to do this birthday?"

Milly stopped suddenly, with her hands behind her, opposite her mother, with her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes smiling, as if there was a tremendous secret hidden somewhere.

"Well, monkey, out with it. What have you got hidden away in your little head?"

"Well, mother," said Milly, slowly, "I don't want to _have_ anybody to tea. I want to go out to tea with somebody. Now can you guess?"

"With Aunt Emma?"

"Oh no, Aunt Emma's coming over here all day. She promised she would."

"With Becky and Tiza?"

Milly nodded, and screwed up her little lips tighter than ever.

"But I don't expect Mrs. Backhouse will want the trouble of having you two to tea.

"Oh mother, she won't mind a bit. I know she won't; because Becky told me one day her mother would like us very much to come some time if you'd let us. And Nana could come and help Mrs. Backhouse, and we could all wash up the tea-things afterwards, like we did at the picnic."

"Then Tiza mustn't sit next me," said Olly, who had been listening in silence to all the arrangements. "She takes away my bread and b.u.t.ter when I'm not looking, and I don't like it, not a bit."

"No, Olly dear, she shan't," said Milly, taking his hand and fondling it, as if she were at least twenty years older. "I'll sit on one side of you and Becky on the other," a prospect with which Olly was apparently satisfied, for he made no more objections.

"Well, you must ask Mrs. Backhouse yourselves," said Mrs. Norton. "And if it is her was.h.i.+ng-day, or inconvenient to her at all, you mustn't think of going, you know."

So early next morning, Milly and Nana and Olly went up to the farm, and came back with the answer that Mrs. Backhouse would be very pleased to see them at tea on Thursday, the 15th, and that John Backhouse would have cut the hay-field by the river by then, and they could have a romp in the hay afterwards.

Wednesday was a deeply interesting day to Olly. He and his mother went over by themselves to Wanwick, and they bought something which the shopwoman at the toy-shop wrapped up in a neat little parcel, and which Olly carried home, looking as important as a little king.

"Milly," he began at dinner, "_wouldn't_ you like to know about your presents? But of course I shan't tell you about mine. Perhaps I'm not going to give you one at all. Oh, mother," in a loud whisper to Mrs.

Norton, "did you put it away safe where she can't see?"

"Oh, you silly boy," said Milly, "you'll tell me if you don't take care."

"No, I shan't. I wouldn't tell you if you were to go on asking me all day. It isn't very big, you know, Milly, and--and--it isn't pretty outside--only--"

"Be quiet, chatterbox," said Mr. Norton putting his hand over Olly's mouth, "you'll tell in another minute, and then there'll be no fun to-morrow."

So Olly with great difficulty kept quiet, and began eating up his pudding very fast, as if that was the only way of keeping his little tongue out of mischief.

"Father," he said after dinner, "do take Milly out for a walk, and mother shall take me. Then I can't tell, you know."

So the two went out different ways, and Olly kept away from Milly all day, in great fear lest somehow or other his secret should fly out of him in spite of all his efforts to keep it in. At night the children made nurse hurry them to bed, so that when mother came to tuck them up, as she generally did, she found the pair fast asleep, and nothing left to kiss but two curly heads buried in the pillows.

"Bless their hearts," said nurse to Mrs. Norton, "they can think of nothing but to-morrow. They'll be sadly disappointed if it rains."

But the stars came out, and the new moon shone softly all night on the great fir trees and the rosebuds and the little dancing beck in the Ravensnest garden; and when Milly awoke next morning the sun was s.h.i.+ning, and Brownholme was towering up clear and high into the breezy blue sky, and the trees were throwing cool shadows on the dewy lawn around the house.

"Oh dear!" said Milly, jumping up, her face flus.h.i.+ng with joy "it's my birthday, and it's fine. Nana, bring me my things, please.--But where's Olly?"

Where indeed was Olly? There was his little bed, but there was a nightdress rolled up in it, and not a wisp of his brown curls was to be seen anywhere.

"Why, Miss Milly, are you woke up at last? I hardly thought you'd have slept so late this morning. Many happy returns of the day to you," said nurse, giving her a hearty hug.

"Thank you, _dear_ nurse. Oh, it is so nice having birthdays. But where can Olly be?"

"Don't you trouble your head about him," said nurse mysteriously, and not another word could Milly get out of her. She had just slipped on her white cotton frock when mother opened the door.

"Well, birthday-girl! The top of the morning to you, and many, many happy returns of the day."

Whereupon Milly and mother went through a great deal of kissing which need not be described, and then mother helped her brush her hair, and put on her ribbon and tie her sash, so that in another minute or two she was quite ready to go down.

"Now, Milly, wait one minute till you hear the bell ring, and then you may come down as fast as you like."

So Milly waited, her little feet dancing with impatience, till the bell began to ring as if it had gone quite mad.

"Oh, that's Olly ringing," cried Milly, rus.h.i.+ng off. And sure enough when she got to the hall there was Olly ringing as if he meant to bring the house down. He dropped the bell when he saw Milly, and dragged her breathlessly into the dining-room.

And what did Milly see there I wonder? Why, a heap of red and white roses lying on the breakfast table, a big heap, with odd corners and points sticking up all over it, and under the roses a white napkin, and under the napkin treasures of all sorts--a book from father, a little work-box from mother, with a picture of Windermere on the outside, and inside the most delightful cottons and needles and bits of bright-coloured stuffs; a china doll's dinner-service from Aunt Emma, a mug from nurse, a little dish full of big red strawberries from gardener, and last, but not least, Olly's present--a black paint-box, with colours and brushes and all complete, and tied up with a little drawing-book which mother had added to make it really useful. At the top of the heap, too, lay two letters addressed in very big round hand to "Miss Milly Norton," and one was signed Jacky and the other signed Francis. Each of these presents had neat little labels fastened on to them, and they were smothered in roses--deep red and pale pink roses, with the morning dew sprinkled over them.

"We got all those roses, mother and me, this morning, when you was fast asleep, Milly," shouted Olly, who was capering about like a mad creature. "Mother pulled me out of bed ever so early, and I putted on my goloshes, and didn't we get wet just! Milly, _isn't_ my paint-box a beauty?"

But it's no good trying to describe what Milly felt. She felt as every happy little girl feels on a happy birthday, just a little bit bewitched, as if she had got into another kind of world altogether.

"Now," said father, after breakfast, "I'm yours, Milly, for all this morning. What are you going to do with me?"

"Make you into a tiger, father, and shoot you," said Olly, who would have liked to play at hunting and shooting games all day long.

"I didn't ask you, sir," said Mr. Norton, "I'm not yours, I'm Milly's.

Now, Milly, what shall we do?"

"Will you take us right to the top of Brownholme, father? You know we haven't been to the very top yet."

"Very well, we'll go if your legs will carry you. But you must ask them very particularly first how they feel, for it'll be stiff work for them."

Not very long after breakfast, and before they started for their walk, Aunt Emma's pony carriage came rattling up the drive, and she, too, brought flowers for Milly, above all a bunch of water-lilies all wet from the lake; and then she and mother settled under the trees with their books and work while the children started on their walk.