"Day when I was born? What, has my birthday come around again? Well,
sure; but I had quite forgotten. How these birthdays do pile up on one."

"How old are you today?" asked Dorian.

"How old? Let me see. I declare, I must be seventy-five."

"Isn't he a funny man," whispered Carlia to Mildred, who appeared not to
hear the comment, so interested was she in the old man.

"And so you've come to celebrate," went on Uncle Zed, "come to
congratulate me that I am one year nearer the grave."

"Now, Uncle Zed, you know--"

"Yes; I know; forgive me for teasing; I know why you come to wish me
well. It is that I have kept the faith one year more, and that I am
twelve months nearer my heavenly reward. That's it, isn't it?"

Uncle Zed pushed his glasses up on his forehead to better see his
company, especially Mildred. Mrs. Trent made the proper introduction,
then lifted the picnic basket from the table to a corner.

"We're just going to spend an hour or so with you," explained Mrs.
Trent. "We want you to talk, Mildred to play, and then we'll have a bite
to eat. We'll just sit about your grate, and look into the glow of the
fire while you talk." However, Dorian and Mildred were scanning the
books.