ic is putting out the tip of his tongue
when he thinks no one is looking at him, which is vulgar, even though
it is father's birthday. What was I saying? I do get cramped and
mixed, huddled up on the floor, scribbling. We're to go for a long
drive, to Bee's Head, or somewhere, and the horses and the carriages
and the servants and the ferrets and the children and father and all
the food are to come too, and we are to have a great ball--no, that's
in the evening--and supper, and the fireworks will go off. Dear, dear,
where are the fireworks to be squeezed? it's a most confusing sort of
day."

"Maggie!" suddenly exclaimed Basil.

She raised a flushed face.

"What are you doing, huddled up on the floor like a ball; and what's
that queer squiggly bit of paper in your hand?--it looks all over
hieroglyphics. Here, I must see!" he snatched at the paper, held it
aloft, and read Marjorie's programme aloud amid the roars of the
company.

"I was only trying to make what we said less confusing," answered
Marjorie. "I was getting it down as hard as I could, and I said I was
mixed; anyone else would have been mixed too, I think."

"I should rather think they would," said Basil. "So that's the
nonsense we have been talking all this time. Thank you, Maggie, for
showing us ourselves. Now, sir," here Basil turned round and addressed
his father. Mr. Wilton looked at him with the greatest admiration; he
felt years younger than his son at the moment.

"Now, sir," proceeded Basil, "we cannot go to Bee's Head, and Salter's
Point, and the Deep Woods all in the same morning, as the three places
happen to be in totally different directions, and as each of them also
happens to be from ten to twelve miles from here. We must make a
choice, and we must abide by it. It's your birthday, father, and you
ought to choose. Which shall it be?"

"Thank you, my boy, but I would not have the responsibility of a
choice for the world--I don't feel equal to it. You young folks must
make the selection among you."

"I'm for Bee's Head and the lighthouse!" screamed Eric; "there's a man
at the lighthouse of the name of Bolster, and he promised to get me
some crabs, and I know he'd like to have a good stare at Shark. I'm
for Bee's Head and the lighthouse; that's what I'm for!"

"I think the Deep Woods would be best," said Ermengarde. "It's sure to
be grilling in the sun to-day, and I expect there'll be a good deal of
dust, and the dust and the sun together