Ralph was the best loved brother, after all, though, of course, the children loved Dick and Jimmie dearly.  But no one was quite as patient as Ralph, no one had time to read to them as often as he did, no one told them stories without coaxing as Ralph did.

He and Dick came up the street from the station together this night, and though Dick kissed Sister and said, “Hello, kid,” to Brother, he dashed into the house, while Ralph stayed to talk.

“Birthday tomorrow, Brother?” he asked teasingly, though he knew very well that Brother would be six years old.

“Oh, Ralph!” Brother was so excited he nearly stuttered.  “Ralph, couldn’t you tell me what the present is now?  I’m just as tall, and it’s almost my birthday.  Please, Ralph?”

Ralph swung Sister up and sat her on the fence-post.

“Well, I don’t believe I could do that,” he replied slowly.  “Let’s see, did you drink your milk today without grumbling?”

“Yes, I did—­didn’t I, Sister?” said Brother eagerly.

“Yes,” nodded Sister.  “He drank all of his for lunch, too, Ralph, and didn’t spill any.”

“That’s certainly fine,” praised Ralph.  “I’m sure you’ve grown a little bit every day, too.  Well, Brother, I tell you what I’ll do —­tomorrow morning I’ll bring the present up to your room before breakfast.  How will that do?”

Brother was more excited than ever, and for once he was ready to go to bed that night without a protest.  He and Sister trailed sleepily off upstairs, wishing for the morning to come so that they might know what this mysterious present was.

They had two little white beds in the same room and they could undress themselves very nicely if they helped each other with the buttons.  Mother Morrison usually came up before they were ready for bed, and on bath nights she always came up with them and stayed till they were in bed.

The night before a birthday party was, of course, a bath night, and Sister was very willing to let Brother take his bath first because she had a picture book she wanted to look at.  She was lying on her bed, in her nightie, looking at the pictures while Brother splashed in the tub and Mother Morrison waited for him to stop playing and use the soap to lather himself, instead of pretending it was a boat, when Dick knocked on the door.

“Look here!” he said, opening it and thrusting in his head.  “Have either of you kids been in my room today?”

“How nice you are!” cried Sister, sitting up to look at Dick, who, indeed, did seem very nice, though he was without his coat.

“I’m twenty minutes late now,” growled Dick.  “I’ve hunted everywhere for my collar buttons and studs, and I can’t find them.”

CHAPTER V

DICK’S BUTTONS

Before Sister could say anything, in pranced Brother, very pink and clean from his hot bath and treading on his gray bathrobe at every other step.