"On Tuesday," said Phoebe.

"How old will he be?"

"Two," returned his delighted mother, and Bridget leaned back in her
chair with a profound sigh.

"Oh dear," she murmured, "and I shall actually be twenty-three on
Wednesday!"

"Now what are you going to do to celebrate the occasion?" demanded
Colonel Faversham.

"Let me see," said Bridget; "I shall breakfast alone, have lunch alone,
tea alone and dinner in the same delightful company. How different it
used to be when we lived at Crowborough! The day was a kind of
festival. Before I was grown up we always had a primrose party."

Carrissima could not refrain from looking at her sympathetically.
Although her lips were smiling, her eyes seemed not a little pitiful.
It was impossible not to like the girl, and, moreover, if it were
granted that she was (as Lawrence insisted) manoeuvring for Colonel
Faversham, it seemed to follow that there must be less fear for Mark!
Perhaps, in some occult, subconscious way, this unbidden idea may have
quickened Carrissima's regard, and in any case she deprecated the
lonely birthday, forming a small benevolent scheme of her own for its
celebration. In the first place, she determined to send Bridget a
present, and then she would go to Golfney Place during the afternoon
and take her out to tea. A modest programme, but still better than