Eleanor hugged her. "That's just what's happened, Katie. Somebody _has_ given me a present--I believe it must have been the stars." She extended her hands, right and left, to the men; holding them so, she rattled on; "Boys and girls, there's so much ego in my cosmos to-night that it's running out at every pore. I'm sure there's going to be a party to-night, and I'm sure it's got up for my benefit. I'm going to play so hard--so hard that they'll put me to bed crying! Mr. Heath, bring on your Chinese and let them gambol and frisk. It's my birthday. This isn't the date in the family Bible, as Kate could tell you if she weren't a lady, but I'm sure my parents made a mistake. I just know that some menial is coming in a minute with a birthday cake--and the ring and the thimble and the coin and everything will be in my slice--Hello, Bert Chester!" "Where do I come in?" enquired Kate. "You? You come in as my dearest little playmate, to whom I sent the first invitation." "I see at a glance," rejoined Mark Heath, "that we've got our work cut out for us. I will now announce to the Little Girl who is Having a Party the program of games and sports. The festival of the women is on in Chinatown." "I saw it from the car as I passed Dupont Street," chimed in Kate. "And the Quarter is blazing like a fire in a tar barrel." In the most natural manner, Kate linked herself to Mark Heath. She always yielded the place beside Bertram when Eleanor was present; quite as naturally, she herself took that place when Eleanor was away. Bertram cast a long look on his companion; and he ventured for the first time in weeks, on something like a compliment. "What _has_ happened to you? You look--hanged if I can just tell you how you look, but it's great!" "Oh, compliment me! I love compliments! That's my birthday present from you. I wonder if the Chinese babies will be out on the street--the little, golden babies. Why haven't they a legend about those babies? Mr. Heath, do you know Chinese mythology? Kate, aren't you sure those children are primroses transformed by the fairies to hide them from the goblins?" Bertram frowned a little as she drew the other couple into their private conversation. But he continued to study her. This lightness and brightness which she had developed so suddenly, seemed quite to dim the radiance of his own personality. He fell into a quiet which lasted far into the evening. She, on her side, moved like one intoxicated by some divine liquor. Never had she seemed so gay, so young; and--though he did not wholly formulate this--never had she seemed to him so inaccessible. They approached a dark alley beside an Italian tenement. Eleanor, dancing around the corner, came upon it suddenly. She drew up. "There's an ogre in this dark den--I know there is. I must see him! Just think, I'm ten years old going onto eleven, and I never yet saw a real ogre. Come on--we're going ogre hunting!" She plunged into the shadows. Mark, laughing, followed.