He hesitated a minute; then his face changed, too, and he said: "I mean not ALL the engine.

I'll let you go halves if you like." "You're a brick," cried Bobbie; "it's a splendid present." She said no more aloud, but to herself she said:-- "That was awfully jolly decent of Peter because I know he didn't mean to.

Well, the broken half shall be my half of the engine, and I'll get it mended and give it back to Peter for his birthday."-- "Yes, Mother dear, I should like to cut the cake," she added, and tea began.
It was a delightful birthday.

After tea Mother played games with them--any game they liked--and of course their first choice was blindman's-buff, in the course of which Bobbie's forget-me-not wreath twisted itself crookedly over one of her ears and stayed there.

Then, when it was near bed-time and time to calm down, Mother had a lovely new story to read to them.
"You won't sit up late working, will you, Mother ?" Bobbie asked as they said good night.
And Mother said no, she wouldn't--she would only just write to Father and then go to bed.
But when Bobbie crept down later to bring up her presents--for she felt she really could not be separated from them all night--Mother was not writing, but leaning her head on her arms and her arms on the table.