to acknowledge himself
in the wrong; therefore he satisfied himself with remarking, that Louis
did not like cricket, and he didn't care about the children, and there
was no difference.

Louis' attention was at that moment attracted by something on the table.
"Oh! here is something for me, Reginald!--A beautiful new Bible from
dear papa and mamma--and a church service from grandmamma, and what's
this?--'_The Lady of the Manor_' from uncle and aunt Clarence;
how kind, look Reginald! and here's another--a beautiful little red and
gold book, '_Mrs. Rowe's Poems_,' the book I am so fond of--from
you: oh! thank you, dear Reginald."

"And many happy returns of the day, dear Louis," said Reginald, who
had by this time completely recovered his ordinary good-humor.

At the foot of the stairs, when he descended, Louis met some of the
young party, who hardly waited to offer the compliments of the day
before they loudly expressed the disappointment felt by each at the
unfavorable weather. "Raining, raining--nothing but splashing and dark
clouds--so tiresome, so disappointing--we shall be obliged to stay
in-doors," sounded round him in different keys as they marched in
close phalanx to the breakfast-room, where they found Bessie Vernon,
a little girl of seven years old, kneeling on a chair at the window,
singing, in the most doleful accents,

"Rain, rain, go to Spain,
And mind you don't come back again."

"Good morning, Bessie," said Louis.

"Oh! Louis, many happy returns. I haven't got a present for you,
because I hadn't money enough."

"Never mind," said Louis; "I would rather have your love and kisses
than any present."

"And I will give you many, many kisses," cried the little girl,
fulfilling her promise in good earnest.

"_My love and a kiss_," said her brother; "that's what Bessie always
sends at the end of her letters: isn't it, Bessie, _I send you my love
and a kiss_?"

"Well, I mean it," said Bessie, "and you needn't laugh. I wonder what
we shall do to-day--dear me--I think, though, there's a little lighter
bit of sky over the oak."

"Let me see--where are my spectacles?" said Frank.

"Not much hope, I fear," said Sir George's hearty voice behind
her. "Not much hope, Bessie. What an array of long faces. How do
you do? Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, I hope I see you in
health and spirits. A happy birthday, and many of them to you,
my boy; the rain does not appear to have damped you so much as