“Ah yes.  It is your birthday.  I had forgotten.  Forgive me, Stumpy darling!  You know I wish you always the very, very best.”  The clinging arms held him more closely,

“Thank you, Isabel.”  Scott’s voice was as tired as his eyes, and yet it had a certain quality of strength.  “Of course it’s a very important occasion.  How are we going to celebrate it?”

“I have a present for you somewhere.  Biddy, where is it?” Isabel’s voice had a note of impatience in it.

“It’s here, darlint!  It’s here!” Biddy bustled up to the bed with a parcel.

Isabel took it from her and turned to Scott.  “It’s only a silly old cigarette-case, dear, but I thought of it all myself.  How old are you now, Stumpy?”

“I am thirty,” he answered, smiling.  “Thank you very much, dear.  It’s just the thing I wanted—­only too good!”

“As if anything could be too good for you!” his sister said tenderly.  “Has Eustace remembered?”

“Oh yes.  Eustace has given me a saddle, but as he didn’t think I should want it here, it is to be presented when we get home again.”  He sat down on the side of the bed, still inspecting the birthday offering.

“Haven’t you had anything from anyone else?” Isabel asked, after a moment.

He shook his head.  “Who else is there to bother about a minnow like me?”

“You’re not a minnow, Scott.  And didn’t—­didn’t Basil give you anything?”

Scott’s tired eyes looked at her with a sudden fixity.  He said nothing; but a piteous look came into Isabel’s face under his steady gaze, and she dropped her own as if ashamed.

“Whisht, Master Scott darlint, for the Lord’s sake, don’t ye go upsetting her!” warned Biddy in a sibilant whisper.  “I had trouble enough last night.  If it hadn’t been for the draught, she wouldn’t have slept at all, at all.”

Scott did not look at her.  “You should have called me,” he said, and leaning forward took his sister’s hand.  “Isabel, wouldn’t you like to come out and see the skaters?  There is some wonderful luging going on too.”

She did not raise her eyes; her whole demeanour had changed.  She seemed to droop as if all animation had gone; “I don’t know,” she said listlessly.  “I think I would almost as soon stay here.”

“Have your tay, darlint!” coaxed Biddy, on her other side.

“Eustace will be coming to look for you if you don’t,” said Scott.

She started at that, and gave a quick shiver.  “Oh no, I don’t want Eustace!  Don’t let him come here, Stumpy, will you?”

“Shall I go and tell him you are coming then?” asked Scott, his eyes still steadily watching her.

She nodded.  “Yes, yes.  But I don’t want to be made.  Basil never made me do things.”

Scott rose.  “I will wait for you downstairs.  Thank you, Biddy.  Yes, I’ll drink that first.  No tea in the world ever tastes like your brew.”

“Get along with your blarney, Master Scott!” protested Biddy.  “And you and Sir Eustace mustn’t tire Miss Isabel out.  Remember, she’s just come a long journey, and it’s not wonderful at all that she don’t feel like exerting herself.”