with very red faces and very disordered hair were tumbling about on
his bed.

"Eh--what? Is the house on fire?" he gasped.

"Oh, father! At last!" exclaimed Marjorie. She flung herself upon him,
and began to kiss him all over his face.

"My dear child--very affectionate of you, no doubt, but why this
sudden rush of devotion in the middle of the night?"

"It isn't!" exclaimed Eric in a voice of awful emphasis. "It's nearly
five o'clock!"

"And it's your birthday," said Marjorie, beginning to kiss him again.

"Yes," continued Eric, "it's your birthday, father. _Our_ day, you
know."

The victim in the bed lay quite still for a moment. That much grace
he felt he must allow himself to recover from the shock of the
announcement. Then he said, as cheerfully as he could speak, "What did
you say the hour was?"

"Close on five o'clock--awfully late," answered both children,
shouting their words into his ears.

"All right; what do you want me to do?"

"To get up at once, and come with us to gather water-lilies."

"Oh!"

"Isn't it a delightful plan?"

"Very. Are you sure the morning isn't wet?"

"The morning wet, father! The sun is shining like anything. Run to the
window, Mag, and pull the blind up. Now you can see, can't you,
father?"

"I can, thanks, Eric."

"Well, aren't you getting up?"

"I will, if you will both favor me by retiring into the corridor for
five minutes. And listen, even though it is my birthday, it isn't
necessary to have any more vic----I mean, we need not wake the rest of
the house."

"Oh, we'll be as quiet as mice," retorted Marjorie. "_Dear_ father,
you'll promise to be very quick?"

"_Dear_ Maggie, I promise; I am your devoted and humble servant for
the rest of the day."

"Isn't father delicious?" said Marjorie, as they waited in the
passage.

"Delicious!" retorted Eric; "what a girl's expression! One would think
you were going to eat him. I tell you what it is, pater ought to be
very much obliged to us for waking him. He was lazy, but he'll have a
time of it for the rest of the day."

CHAPTER X.

THE REIGN OF CHAOS.

A cold bath and a rapid toilet afterward effectually removed all
traces of sleep from Mr. Wilton's eyes.

"I feel like a sort of knight putting on my armor," he said to
himself. "I am going on a crusade for the rest of the day. A crusade
against all my established customs, against all my dearly loved order,
against my newspaper, my books, my quiet