help to make him a birthday. Let's go round and
ask everybody."

"Mother said we weren't to ask people for things," said Bobbie,
doubtfully.

"For ourselves, she meant, silly, not for other people. I'll ask the old
gentleman too. You see if I don't," said Peter.

"Let's ask Mother first," said Bobbie.

"Oh, what's the use of bothering Mother about every little thing?"
said Peter, "especially when she's busy. Come on. Let's go down to the
village now and begin."

So they went. The old lady at the Post-office said she didn't see why
Perks should have a birthday any more than anyone else.

"No," said Bobbie, "I should like everyone to have one. Only we know
when his is."

"Mine's to-morrow," said the old lady, "and much notice anyone will take
of it. Go along with you."

So they went.

And some people were kind, and some were crusty. And some would give and
some would not. It is rather difficult work asking for things, even for
other people, as you have no doubt found if you have ever tried it.

When the children got home and counted up what had been given and what
had been promised, they felt that for the first day it was not so bad.
Peter wrote down the lists of the things in the little pocket-book where
he kept the numbers of his engines. These were the lists:--

GIVEN.
A tobacco pipe from the sweet shop.
Half a pound of tea from the grocer's.
A woollen scarf slightly faded from the draper's, which was the
other side of the grocer's.
A stuffed squirrel from the Doctor.

PROMISED.
A piece of meat from the butcher.
Six fresh eggs from the woman who lived in the old turnpike cottage.
A piece of honeycomb and six bootlaces from the cobbler, and an
iron shovel from the blacksmith's.

Very early next morning Bobbie got up and woke Phyllis. This had been
agreed on between them. They had not told Peter because they thought he
would think it silly. But they told him afterwards, when it had turned
out all right.

They cut a big bunch of roses, and put it in a basket with the
needle-book that Phyllis had made for Bobbie on her birthday, and a very
pretty blue necktie of Phyllis's. Then they wrote on a paper: 'For Mrs.
Ransome, with our best love, because it is her birthday,' and they put
the paper in the basket, and they took it to the Post-office, and went
in and put it on the counter and ran away before the old woman at the
Post-office had time