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MORNING
It might have been the middle of the night; but
it wasn't—it was Guy Fawkes' Day, and eight
o'clock on a foggy morning. The London square
was more than usually hushed and mournful, except
for a warning call or whistle as a van cautiously
lumbered along, or blundered on to the pavement.
The nursery fire did its best to look cheerful: the
lights were all on too, showing up the bright
pictures on the walls and the bright faces of the three
children who were chattering gaily at the breakfast-table.
And they all looked so smart! Alec and
Frank in their best suits, and tiny Molly wore her
prettiest white frock and her coral necklace, just as
if she were going to a party.
They soon scrambled off their chairs, and Molly,
standing on tiptoe, seized hold of a bunch of lilies
tied up with ribbon that was on the side table, and
each of her brothers eagerly possessed himself of a
neat brown paper parcel.
It was Father's birthday. The occasion was always
kept as a holiday, and the children were waiting
for his call to summon them to his dressing-room.
"I think he must be fifty!" remarked Alec.
"I fink he's fifteen," said their little sister.
She spoke in a tone of conviction, accompanied
by a toss of her short curls.
"Don't be silly, Mollikins," replied the boys with
a laugh; but she said she was sure she was right.
"Halloa, Kidlets! Come along down!" came
the shout of a manly voice. There was a stampede,
and a race as to who should get there first. Molly
arrived a bad third, but it was she who was first for
him, for he went towards her and picked her up.
She put her free arm around his neck, but instead
of making him her little speech she exclaimed as
he kissed her—
"Why, Daddy, your chin is full of splinters!"
The boys delivered their presents, and were
kissed or patted on the head, and thanked, before
Molly parted with the flowers which she held so
tightly in her little fist.
"Your Babyship is very kind," said her father,
gratefully shaking her by the hand, and, laughing
still, he put her down. Then he took her hint, and
seriously began to shave.
They knew they mustn't talk to him whilst that
important function was proceeding, so the three
stood still, deeply absorbed as they watched the
performance that fascinated them with its dangers
and its hairbreadth escapes.
"Now I can kiss my little Mollikins and she won't
complain." He put down the towel, took her up
again, and rubbed his smooth cheek against hers.
"Daddy, tell me how old you are," she asked,
looking into his eyes.
"Oh, how can I do that? It's a secret."
"Do whisper it," she coaxed. After a moment's
hesitation he smilingly whispered something into
her ear.
"Oh, what a 'tock of years!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" clamoured Alec. "I'm sure I'm
right."
"I'm sure I am!" asserted Frank.
"I know!" cried the delighted Molly, bursting
with importance. "May I tell?" Her father nodded.
"Twenty-one!" she exclaimed triumphantly.
"Bosh! Why, he said he was that last year!"
cried Frank.
"And the year before," asserted Alec; "and the
year before that—I remember quite well. Father
always says that."
"Guy!" called their mother just then. "Please
send the children in to me." She was having
her morning tea, so the young people ran into
the adjoining room to hug her and be hugged in
return.
NOON
"Sun's tum out!" announced Molly, as she
toddled away from the nursery window.
"Hooray!" shouted Frank. "It's going to be
fine for this evening!"
There were going to be great doings. Father's
birthday and Guy Fawkes' Day made a grand double
event long looked forward to with enjoyment.
"Hooray!" echoed Alec rather feebly, for he was
desperately busy. Outside—now that the fog had
lifted—the busy hum could be heard of everyday
life, mingled with boys' shouts as they trundled a
guy about.
"I've found something out!" suddenly exclaimed
Alec in a curious voice, and he spread out on the
table the front page of an old Times. "Look here,
Frank!" he continued in growing excitement.
"Here, under the Births—marked with red pencil—'Guy
Thompson!' That's Father—here's the
date. Wait a moment. Now I'll reckon it out.
Hush! Don't say anything while I do the sum.
I say! Father is twenty-one!"
"I knew it!" exclaimed Molly, capering about.
"I told you so."
"Rubbish!" said Frank. "Molly, do shut up.
Alec, where did you find that paper? How did it
come here?"
"I found it there, on the rocking-chair. It looks
old, and it is old. See, here's the date. It's very
funny! I wish we could find out—it would be jolly
to find out all by ourselves, if this really can be true.
I say, I know who'd tell us. I've heard all about
Somerset House—where you can get to know about
people and their affairs—only I don't know where
the place is, or who lives there."
"An omlibus will take us anywhere," spoke up
Molly.
"Who's us?" inquired Frank scornfully.
"Never mind her," said Alec excitedly. "I'll tell
you what. Listen: this afternoon, when we've got
to be in the play-room, let's go in a cab to Somerset
House, and just get to know once for all. I've got
four shillings in my money-box; what have you
got?"
"I'll count." Frank counted up to five shillings.
"The man may want more. Mollikins, what have
you got in your purse?"
"Dot sixpence."
"Well, if you pay your share, we'll take you with
us—that is, if you can put on your own hat. I can
help you with your coat." And so it was arranged.
And at three o'clock that cold afternoon Alec,
Frank, and Molly might have been seen stealing
forth into the keen air; they were supposed to
be playing at marbles in the garret or they might
have been seen, and packed back again. The
boys were well muffled up, and Molly had her hat
on with the back to the front. The three were in
high spirits once they were off, and they realised the
full importance of such an adventure. In Alec's
hand was the sheet of newspaper in which the truth
of the paragraph was to be tested. Alec hailed the
first cab, the driver shook his head. The second
paid no attention. The third asked them who they
thought they were getting at and where they thought
they were going to.
"Somerset House!" ordered Alec, after quickly
lifting Molly in, and Frank had closed the door
smartly. On the way there they behaved much
better than they usually did when they drove out.
No one fidgeted; no one complained of feeling
hungry, or thirsty, or tired, or anything.
When they alighted the cabman was told to wait.
Molly and her brothers passed through the imposing
gateway of Somerset House, and were starting to
cross the quadrangle, when they saw the Beadle in
his fine uniform (whom they took to be the Duke),
and learned from him where they could find the room
of which they were in search.
"Births, please," said Alec, bold as brass, to the
gentleman behind the counter. He was leader and
spokesman whenever they went shopping, and he
was leader and spokesman to-day. Frank never interfered.
And Molly had gone stonily shy. "Births,
please," repeated Alec, impatient at being stared at.
"What name?" said the gentleman, looking at
them amused.
"Thompson," replied Alec.
"Any particular Thompson? You see, we may
have several Thompsons in our entries—five or six
at least."
"This is Mr. Guy Thompson," said Alec, showing
the marked paragraph.
"Very well," said the gentleman (who, thought
Alec, must be the Duke's butler). "But have
you got the fee?-the half-crown you must pay
for the search?"
"A half-crown's very dear," said Alec. "Can't
you do it for less?"
The gentleman looked at them with kindly eyes.
"I dare say I can," he replied, putting his hand in
his pocket, and rattling some coins. "But I'm
afraid you'll have to pay a shilling. The King
wants one." They paid their shilling for the King;
watched while the gentleman looked up his records,
and followed him into the corridor as he prosecuted
his search. At last he said—
"Quite right. Born on the fifth of November:
year's all right. It's all in order."
"Then Father is twenty-one?" queried both
boys doubtfully.
Molly hopped on one foot in suppressed excitement.
"Your father!" exclaimed the kindly clerk,
handing back the coin. "Why, how old are you?"
"Ten," replied Alec. "Thank you."
"And so your father married at the age of ten
or thereabouts, did he? Dear me; very precocious
of him!" exclaimed the clerk, with such a serious
face that the children felt quite uncomfortable.
They had not considered the matter in
that light at all. Their faces fell, and they felt
such a wish they had never come that without a
word of explanation they turned and fled. They
were glad to be once more outside the building,
and thankful to find the cabman still there waiting
to take them back, and in their discomfiture he
was hailed by them joyfully as a dear old friend.
"Home!" said Alec, when they were inside.
"And where might that happen to be?" asked
the driver with interest.
Molly, womanlike, jumped at a conclusion.
"We're lost!" she wailed, and burst into tears,
and it was only when she was in sight of her
own nursery windows that she was comforted,
and smiled once more. Without any inquiry,
all their remaining savings were emptied into the
willing palm of the delighted driver, who bowed
his acknowledgments repeatedly.
The children ran through the garden entrance
unobserved, and had just got their outdoor things
off when the tea-bell rang.
NIGHT
When Alec, Frank, and Molly entered the
drawing-room, where their parents were in readiness,
for the great annual frolic with Father, they
didn't tumble in as was their usual habit; they
walked in sedately. They had something important
to say.
"Truly, Daddy, how old are you?" asked Molly,
running up to him. She wouldn't be hushed down
by the boys. She felt she wanted to make sure
of what she already knew.
"I told you I was twenty-one, of course! One
always expects such a nice lot of presents when
one is twenty-one! But you two young rascals
evidently think I really must be a very old man of
forty at least!" he replied, smiling.
"And does he never grow older, Mummy?"
"I don't see it, Molly darling."
"Do you ever see the Times, boys?" he
inquired.
"That's just what's so queer," said Alec. "I've
got it here." Alec noticed the glance which his
parents exchanged, and their expression of astonishment
when Frank remarked—
"We took it with us this afternoon to Somerset
House."
"Yes," corroborated Alec.
"Me, too," chimed in Molly.
And then they told of all they had done, and
their parents tried to look grave, but couldn't, and
could scarcely speak for laughing, though they
extorted a promise that nothing of the kind should
ever again be attempted without permission.
"Surely, what is in the Times," reasoned their
father, "must be true—at least one must presume
so."
"Halloa," broke in Alec. "I say, Frank! Look
here! This Guy Thompson was born in Cambridge
Square! I never noticed that. Weren't you born
in Oxford Square, Father?"
"Well, I think I might just as well have been
born in one as in the other. All I know is, that
if I was twenty-one, I am twenty-one—and the
rest—you never asked me how many more. Come
along, boys, now for our cushion-fight! But first
of all, here are your expenses back again—your
Babyship, there's your sixpence—and now I really
can't wait any longer for a romp!"
Soon the room was gay with laughter. Father,
too, had to be a real guy and a "pretend" one,
pushed about in the arm-chair with a funny long
nose spoiling his jolly face. And afterwards they
all danced whilst their mother played a hornpipe—and
really it was very difficult to guess Father's
years, they might have been anything!
Then he suddenly ran out. There was a rush to
the window, the blind was drawn up, and soon, in
the darkness of the night, a grand catharine-wheel
was seen whizzing round in a blaze of dripping
fire. Then such a glorious shoot of rockets arose!
Whish! bang! whish! bang! they went as they
burst, each of them, into a shower of gorgeous
stars all purple, and green, and gold.
"A—a—h!" exclaimed the three children, gazing
with rapture. And—
"A—a—h!" they repeated over and over and
over again, as splendour followed splendour, and
the sky was powdered again and again with sparks
of coloured fire.
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