.

"There's our man!" exclaimed Suzanne suddenly; "hurry!"

Mr. Bertram Kneyght greeted his cousin and her friend with genuine
heartiness, and readily accepted their invitation to explore the crowded
mart that stood temptingly at their elbow. The plate-glass doors swung
open and the trio plunged bravely into the jostling throng of buyers and
loiterers.

"Is it always as full as this?" asked Bertram of Eleanor.

"More or less, and autumn sales are on just now," she replied.

Suzanne, in her anxiety to pilot her cousin to the desired haven of the
fur department, was usually a few paces ahead of the others, coming back
to them now and then if they lingered for a moment at some attractive
counter, with the nervous solicitude of a parent rook encouraging its
young ones on their first flying expedition.

"It's Suzanne's birthday on Wednesday next," confided Eleanor to Bertram
Kneyght at a moment when Suzanne had left them unusually far behind; "my
birthday comes the day before, so we are both on the look-out for
something to give each other."

"Ah," said Bertram. "Now, perhaps you can advise me on that very point.
I want to give Suzanne something, and I haven't the least idea what she
wants."

"She's rather a problem," said Eleanor. "She seems to have everything
one can think of, lucky girl. A fan is always useful; she'll be going to
a lot of dances at Davos this winter. Yes, I should think a fan would
please her more than anything. After our birthdays are over we inspect
each other's muster of presents, and I always feel dreadfully humble. She
gets such nice things, and I never have anything worth showing. You see,
none of my relations or any of the people who give me presents are at all
well off, so I can't expect them to do anything more than just remember
the day with some little trifle. Two years ago an uncle on my mother's
side of the family, who had come into a small legacy, promised me a
silver-fox stole for my birthday. I can't tell you how excited I was
about it, how I pictured myself showing it off to all my friends and
enemies. Then just at that moment his wife died, and, of course, poor
man, he could not be expected to think of birthday presents at such a
time. He has lived abroad ever since, and I never got my fur. Do you
know, to this day I can scarcely look at a silver-fox pelt in a shop
window or round anyone's neck without feeling ready to burst into tears.
I suppose if I hadn't had the