“Well, but why don’t the rich people remember the poor people’s birthdays for them, father?  Then they could give them presents, and ask them to tea and all, you know.”

“Yes, that would be a very good arrangement,” said Mr. Norton, smiling at her eager little face.  “Only, somehow, Milly, things don’t come right like that in this world.”

“Well, I’m going to try and remember Becky’s and Tiza’s birthdays,” said Milly.  “I’ll tell mother to put them down in her pocket-book—­won’t you, mother?  Oh, what fun!  I’ll send them birthday cards, and they’ll be so surprised, and wonder why; and then they’ll say, ’Oh, why, of course it’s our birthday!’—­No, not our birthday—­but you know what I mean, father.”

“Well, but, Milly,” asked Mrs. Norton, “have you made up your mind what you want to do this birthday?”

Milly stopped suddenly, with her hands behind her, opposite her mother, with her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes smiling, as if there was a tremendous secret hidden somewhere.

“Well, monkey, out with it.  What have you got hidden away in your little head?”

“Well, mother,” said Milly, slowly, “I don’t want to have anybody to tea.  I want to go out to tea with somebody.  Now can you guess?”

“With Aunt Emma?”

“Oh no, Aunt Emma’s coming over here all day.  She promised she would.”

“With Becky and Tiza?”

Milly nodded, and screwed up her little lips tighter than ever.

“But I don’t expect Mrs. Backhouse will want the trouble of having you two to tea.

“Oh mother, she won’t mind a bit.  I know she won’t; because Becky told me one day her mother would like us very much to come some time if you’d let us.  And Nana could come and help Mrs. Backhouse, and we could all wash up the tea-things afterwards, like we did at the picnic.”

“Then Tiza mustn’t sit next me,” said Olly, who had been listening in silence to all the arrangements.  “She takes away my bread and butter when I’m not looking, and I don’t like it, not a bit.”

“No, Olly dear, she shan’t,” said Milly, taking his hand and fondling it, as if she were at least twenty years older.  “I’ll sit on one side of you and Becky on the other,” a prospect with which Olly was apparently satisfied, for he made no more objections.

“Well, you must ask Mrs. Backhouse yourselves,” said Mrs. Norton.  “And if it is her washing-day, or inconvenient to her at all, you mustn’t think of going, you know.”

So early next morning, Milly and Nana and Olly went up to the farm, and came back with the answer that Mrs. Backhouse would be very pleased to see them at tea on Thursday, the 15th, and that John Backhouse would have cut the hay-field by the river by then, and they could have a romp in the hay afterwards.

Wednesday was a deeply interesting day to Olly.  He and his mother went over by themselves to Wanwick, and they bought something which the shopwoman at the toy-shop wrapped up in a neat little parcel, and which Olly carried home, looking as important as a little king.