"Oh, Mrs. Brawn, I aren't feeling very well this morning. I get these spells. I daresay you've heard about them. I'd like a bottle of lemon soda, please. And about paying—" He passed his hand across his brow and continued hesitatingly: "I don't believe I should have come out in the sun without my cap, do you? What was I saying? Oh, yes, about paying. Well, you see my birthday's coming very soon, and I'll be getting money presents from all the family. Eighteen cents will seem no more to me than thirteen then. Even a dollar will be nothing."
"When does your birthday come?" Mrs. Brawn was weakening.
Again he passed his hand across his forehead, then laid it on his stomach, where he believed his heart to be. "I can't ezactly remember, 'cos there are so many birthdays in our family I get mixed up. Between Grandmother's great age and my few years and all those between, it's a little confusing, but I know it's very soon." As he talked, he had entered the shop and stood leaning against the counter. "Lemon soda, please, and two straws," he murmured.
Peace possessed him as Mrs. Brawn produced the bottle, uncorked it, and set it before him with the straws.
"How is the old lady?" she inquired.
"Nicely, thank you. We're hoping she'll reach one hundred yet. She's trying awfully hard to. 'Cos she wants to see the celebration we'll have. A party, with a big bonfire and sky-rockets. She says she'd be sorry to miss it; though of course we won't have it if she's dead, and she couldn't miss what never really happened, could she, even if it was her own birthday party?"
"You've a wonderful gift of the gab." Mrs. Brawn beamed at him admiringly.
"Yes, I have," he agreed, modestly. "If I hadn't,
