THE BIRTHDAY TREAT It was her birthday, and Chris scampered over the sands with Cinders tugging at her skirt, singing as she ran.

She had three good reasons for being particularly happy that day--the first and foremost of these being the long-anticipated adventure that lay before her; the second that her two young brothers had improved so greatly in health that the tedious hours of her solitude were very nearly over; and the third that a letter from Jack, cousin and comrade, was tucked up her sleeve.
Jack's letters were infrequent and ever delightful.

He always struck the right note.

He had written for her birthday to tell her that he had bought a present for her to celebrate the memorable occasion, but that he was reserving to himself the pleasure of offering it in person when they should meet again, which happy event would, he believed, take place at no distant date.

In fact, Chris might see him any day now, since the privilege of escorting her and her following back to England was to be his, and he understood that the ruling power had decreed that their return should not be postponed much longer.
She was by no means anxious to go; in fact, when the time came she would be sorry.