past four, if it comes to that," said Eric. "You
were an awful time getting into your clothes, Mag. And why shouldn't
we wake father? It's his birthday. He will like us to wake him!"

Marjorie, however, judging from her own too recent experience, thought
differently.

"It really _is_ too early," she said. "He wouldn't like it a bit, and
why should we vex father because it's his birthday?"

"You forget that he never is vexed with anything we do on his
birthday," said Eric. "It's our day, and we couldn't be scolded,
whatever we did. _Do_ come along, Maggie; I have it all planned so
jolly. Father is to come with us, and unmoor the boat, and help us to
gather the water-lilies. Do come on, and don't waste the precious
time. I tell you, father will like it."

Marjorie was very unselfish, but she was also easily persuaded,
particularly by her chosen and special chum, Eric. Accordingly, after
a little further demur, she consented to go with her brother to their
father's room.

It was very still in the house, for not a servant as yet had thought
of stirring. Eric pushed back the oak doors, which so effectually
divided the nursery people from the grown ups.

"There you stay, you nasty things!" he said, hooking them back with an
air of great triumph. "This is our day, and you can't keep us
prisoners. Come along, Mag, I've broken the prison-bars."

Marjorie's own spirits were rising fast. After all, it was delicious
to be up in the early morning. She was glad she had taken the trouble
to get out of bed now.

The children ran down the wide corridor into which the best bedrooms
opened. They paused at length outside their father's door. Here
Marjorie once again grew a little pale, but Eric, with a look of
resolution, turned the handle of the door and went in.

Marjorie followed him on tiptoe. Father's room was very large, and to
the culprits who stood just inside the door, looked solemn and
awe-inspiring. Even Eric felt a little subdued; the chamber seemed so
vast, and the great four-poster, away by itself in an alcove, had a
remote and unapproachable aspect. It was one thing to have a
rollicking, merry, good-humored father to romp about with all day, and
another to approach the solemn personage who reposed in the center of
that bed.

"Let's come away," whispered Marjorie.

"Fudge!" retorted Eric. "It's father's birthday! It's _our_ day! Come
along--he can't be angry with us even if he wished."

Thus exhorted, but with