y across his path a fortnight before the actual day,
wishing in her thoughtfulness to give him the chance to save from two
weeks' salary for some gift.

She sewed in his presence and, as she sewed, entered into a full
explanation of her work: "This little skirt, Osborn, is for Marie's
birthday. I hope I'll get it done in time; there's only a fortnight,
as you know."

He did not know; the fact had slipped his memory in the ceaseless
dream of other liabilities due; but as he looked at Grannie Amber, and
the purple silk petticoat which she was finely sewing, he assumed a
perfect memory of the occasion.

He answered: "I was just going to ask Marie what she'd like for it."

"There are a lot of things she'd like," Mrs. Amber began.

That same evening, when Grannie Amber had rolled up the purple
petticoat into her workbag and departed, he asked Marie, as they sat
together over the fire:

"What would you like for your birthday, my dear?"

A great pleasure shone in her face as she gazed at him.

"Osborn," she stammered, "can you afford to give me a present at all?"

"I should hope so," he replied.

An eagerness, which he had not seen there for a long while, invaded
her face; it was an eagerness of pleasure at his remembrance, at his
wish to be kind and to give her happiness. About the gift she was not
so precious; she hoped it would be small, and she said, almost
reverentially:

"I'd rather you chose, dear."

"I'd been thinking," said Osborn, who had thought of it during dinner,
"that you might like to be taken out. How would that do for a present?
Of course I'd like to do both--to take you out _and_ give you a
swagger gift--but we know it can't be done, don't we?"

"Of course. Of course, my dear."

"You'd like to go out to dinner? And perhaps we could go somewhere
after, too."

"The dinner will be enough, Osborn. Oh! it will be lovely!"

"Righto!" he said. "I--I do wish I could take you out oftener, but you
know--"

"Of course I know, Osborn."

She thought with excitement of the charming few hours which they would
snatch from routine, together, a fortnight hence. She spoke of it to
Mrs. Amber, carelessly, with a high-beating heart and secret,
delicious thrills: "We're dining out on my birthday, mother, if you
won't mind spending the evening here in case the children wake."

"Oh, duck!" cried Mrs. Amber, "oh, my love! I'll be delighted. Mind
you enjoy yourselves very much and don't hurry home. Grandmothe