“Good heavens!” said the colonel.

“I was wondering whether you would care to come and see them,” suggested Phoebe, and she would have liked to invite the sympathetic Bridget, only that she felt certain Lawrence would disapprove.

“No, thank you, Phoebe, no, thank you,” was the prompt reply.  “Still, you needn’t be afraid.  I shall not forget his birthday.  You’ll see!”

“Oh, then it is Victor’s birthday!” cried Bridget.

“On Tuesday,” said Phoebe.

“How old will he be?”

“Two,” returned his delighted mother, and Bridget leaned back in her chair with a profound sigh.

“Oh dear,” she murmured, “and I shall actually be twenty-three on Wednesday!”

“Now what are you going to do to celebrate the occasion?” demanded Colonel Faversham.

“Let me see,” said Bridget; “I shall breakfast alone, have lunch alone, tea alone and dinner in the same delightful company.  How different it used to be when we lived at Crowborough!  The day was a kind of festival.  Before I was grown up we always had a primrose party.”

Carrissima could not refrain from looking at her sympathetically.  Although her lips were smiling, her eyes seemed not a little pitiful.  It was impossible not to like the girl, and, moreover, if it were granted that she was (as Lawrence insisted) manoeuvring for Colonel Faversham, it seemed to follow that there must be less fear for Mark!  Perhaps, in some occult, subconscious way, this unbidden idea may have quickened Carrissima’s regard, and in any case she deprecated the lonely birthday, forming a small benevolent scheme of her own for its celebration.  In the first place, she determined to send Bridget a present, and then she would go to Golfney Place during the afternoon and take her out to tea.  A modest programme, but still better than nothing.

On Tuesday afternoon Carrissima was, naturally, bound to Phoebe and Victor, but during the morning she made her way to Donaldson’s, the jeweller’s, in Old Bond Street, where her family had dealt for many years.  Lawrence went there for presents for his wife; Colonel Faversham (who, to do him justice, was generous in this respect) never went anywhere else at Christmas time or on Carrissima’s birthday.

She had not by any means made up her mind what to buy, and, indeed, in Carrissima’s eyes shopping was always an elaborate rite.  She stood for a few minutes gazing in at the tempting window, and entering presently, began to inspect various trays of rings and brooches, although she had no intention to purchase anything of the kind.  During the process Mr. Donaldson, who had known her from childhood, came to the assistance of the salesman and talked about the weather.  At last a silver card-case was selected.

“I wonder,” said Carrissima, “whether it would be possible to have it engraved by to-morrow morning.”

“I think that can be managed,” returned Mr. Donaldson.