"That's a likely little brooch you've got on, Miss," said Perks the Porter; "I don't know as ever I see a thing more like a buttercup without it was a buttercup."
"Yes," said Bobbie, glad and flushed by this approval. "I always thought it was more like a buttercup almost than even a real one,—and I never thought it would come to be mine, my very own—and then Mother gave it to me for my birthday."
"Oh—have you had a birthday?" said Perks; and he seemed quite surprised, as though a birthday were a thing only granted to a favoured few.
"Yes," said Bobbie; "when's your birthday, Mr. Perks?" The children were taking tea with Mr. Perks in the Porter's room among the lamps and the railway almanacs. They had brought their own cups and some jam turnovers. Mr. Perks made tea in a beer can, as usual, and every one felt very happy and confidential.
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