when she noticed that Colonel Faversham's eyes scarcely left Bridget's
face until she rose from her chair to follow her hostess up-stairs.

In the drawing-room, while the men were smoking, she inquired after
Phoebe's boy. She declared she was "so fond of children" in a tone
which compelled credence. She wished to know the colour of Victor's
eyes and hair; she listened to Phoebe's marvellous stories of his
precocity without the slightest sign of scepticism or boredom.

"He is going to have a party of his own next week," said his mother.

"Beginning early," returned Bridget, as the door opened and Lawrence
and the colonel came in.

"What's that, what's that?" demanded Colonel Faversham, crossing the
room to Bridget's side.

"I was telling Miss Rosser," Phoebe explained, "that Victor is going to
have a party. Eight children all under three."

"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.