The forewoman that evening, whilst the girls were washing and sharing the brush and comb, and complaining that hair came out by the handful, entered the office; announcing the occasion as her birthday, she asked Miss Higham to leave books, and assist in celebrating the event by taking with her a cup of chocolate. Gertie wanted to reach home early in order to see whether an expected letter had arrived, but the invitation suggested a rare compliment, and, with a stipulation arranging that the hospitality should not exceed the space of twenty minutes, she accepted. In an A.B.C. shop at the corner, later, Gertie raised her large cup and wished Miss Rabbit many happy returns. Her eyes wandered rather eagerly about the crowded tables; the inspection over, she sighed. "Wonder if I can trust you, dear," said Miss Rabbit, resting elbows. "I've been so often taken in over friendships with people that I suppose I'm more cautious than most. But there's a look about you--perhaps, though, I'd better keep on the safe side." "I'm not one to chatter." "I know, I know. That's why I've always took to you specially." Again Miss Rabbit stopped. She stirred her cup of chocolate slowly. "If it's good news," advised Gertie, "tell me. I can do with some just now. If it's not, keep it to yourself." "It's rather serious news, and that's why I think you ought to be told. First of all, you must promise me, on your soul and honour, not to breathe a word of it to anybody. Above all, not to Madame." "I promise," she said. "Very well then"--with a satisfied air--"it's like this." She leaned across the marble table. "Our show is going to burst up."