many misgivings at her heart, Marjorie
followed her brother across the big room and up the two steps which
led to the alcove.

A picture of the children's mother hung over the mantelpiece. It was a
very girlish picture, and represented a slim figure in a white dress,
with a blue sash round her waist. The face was a little like
Ermengarde's, but the eyes which looked down now at the two children
had Marjorie's expression in them. There were other portraits of Mrs.
Wilton in the house, later and more matronly portraits; but Marjorie
liked this the best--the girlish mother seemed in touch with her
youthful self.

"Do come away, Eric," she said again, and tears almost sprang to her
eyes. It seemed cruel to wake father just to add to their own
pleasure.

Eric, however, was not a boy to be lightly turned from his purpose.
He had very little sentiment about him, and had stern ideas as to what
he termed his rights. Father's birthday was the children's lawful day:
on that day they were one and all of them kings, and the "king could
do no wrong."

Accordingly this little king, with a somewhat withering glance at his
sister, stepped confidently up to the big bed, raised himself on
tiptoe, so as to secure a better view, and looked down with his chubby
expectant face on his slumbering father.

It is all very well for the little folk, who are in bed and asleep as
a rule between eight and nine in the evening, to feel lively and
larky, and quite up to any holiday pranks at four o'clock on a
summer's morning; but the older and less wise people who sometimes do
not close their eyes until the small hours, are often just enjoying
their deepest and sweetest slumbers about the time the sun likes to
get up.

This was the case with Mr. Wilton. He had not arrived home until
midnight--he had found some letters before him which must be replied
to--he had even dipped into a book in which he was specially
interested. Then his favorite spaniel Gyp had begun to howl in his
kennel, and Mr. Wilton had gone out to see what was the matter.

So, from one cause or another, he had not laid his tired head on his
pillow until one and two o'clock in the morning.

Therefore Mr. Wilton was now very sound asleep indeed, and not Eric's
buzzing whispers nor Marjorie's cautious repentant "Hush--hush, Eric!"
disturbed him in the very least.

"How _lazy_ of father!" pronounced Eric in a tone of withering scorn.
"He has not even stirred. Oh, you needn't g