This was their "present" birthday, but they had not yet begun on their
presents. For fear you shouldn't understand this, I will tell you Beth's
way of explaining it.

"Sister and me is twin children two years all but a month apart, and on
the first birthday which comes in July, we have presents, and on the
second, in August, we have a party, or a trip away, or something, and we
have all the month to choose in."

They generally chose thirty different things. Their mother nearly always
let them have the last one, but once or twice, as when they wanted to go
up in an air ship, she compromised on a steam launch on the river, as
safer, and nearer at hand.

This morning being "present" morning, they were glad to see the
sunshine darting in at their window, and to hear the birds singing
outside something like this--

"Wake up, children: the day is new.
It's full of joy for dears like you."

So they woke up laughing, at least Ethelwyn did, and told Beth what the
birds sang; but Beth was sleepy and uttered her usual "Uh huh."

"You are a very lazy child," said Ethelwyn in a superior tone, "and are
not thinking about your presents at all, nor the making of good
revolutions."

"What's them?" asked Beth, still with her eyes shut.