_CHAPTER X_
_Beth's Birthday_

The space between our birthdays seems to grow apace,
When we're young they loiter; when we're old they race.


It began with a bad time; and so did the next day, as things sometimes
do, even though they turn out all right at the end, like a rainy morning
that clears off into a blue and gold afternoon. Ethelwyn and Beth did
not fall out very often, but then they didn't have a birthday very
often, nor Christmas, nor any other of the days when the land flows with
ice cream and candy, and is bounded on the next day by crossness and
pitfalls.

That was one reason.

That day early they had decided never to be bad again, never; "because,"
said Ethelwyn, "it is very troublesome getting good again, and makes
mother feel bad."

"Uh huh," said Beth.

They were not up yet, and the door leading into their mother's room was
open.