Ben chanced to be in the front office one morning when two children came in: a boy and a girl. They looked about twelve and ten. "Well?" she asked. "We came in," said the boy, "because we've got a domestic problem and we thought you would help. We saw the sign." "Of course I will," said Ben. "If I can. Is it very difficult?" "It is rather," said the little girl. "It's Dad's and Mum's birthday to-morrow and we don't know what to give them." "But surely," said Ben, "they don't both have their birthday on the same day?" "Yes, they do," said the boy. "It's extraordinary, but they do." "I think it's perhaps why they married each other," said the little girl. "It's the most amazing coincidence I ever heard of," said Ben. "Are you sure they're not pretending?" "Quite sure," said the boy. "Dad and Mum "The worst thing of all," said Eva, "is to have a birthday on Christmas day. Every one knows that." "When is your birthday?" Ben asked. "On Christmas Day," said Eva. "What a marvellous family!" exclaimed Ben. "And when is yours?" she asked the boy. "On February 29th, I suppose?" "Yes," he said, "on February 29th. I only have a birthday once in four years. I mean a real one. Of course, as a matter of fact, people are very lenient." "More and more remarkable!" exclaimed Ben. "I never heard anything like it. And are you the only children?" "Yes," said Eva. "Before I can help you," said Ben, "I must know how much money you've got." "We've got five shillings each," said the boy. "But of course we can't spend all that on the present because we must give some to you. Mustn't we?" "Why?" Ben asked. "It says so on the signboard," said the boy. "'Terms moderate.' Terms mean we must pay, don't they?" "Not in every case," said Ben. "Not in this case. Any advice I can give to you is free, because I'm so sorry about your birthdays. But I can't advise until I know everything, so you must tell me. First about your mother. Tell me all about her tastes. Is she fond of reading?" "Yes," said Eva. "New books or old?" "New books," said Eva. "They come from the library. French books too." "Is she fond of flowers?" "Yes," said Eva, "she likes tulips." "And has she any favourite colours?" "A kind of purply pink," said Eva, after consideration. "No," said Eric, firmly; "yellow. All the French books are yellow, and that proves it." "Does she write a lot of letters?" Ben asked. "Not many," Eva thought. "Does she play and sing?" "Oh, yes, she loves music," said Eva. "And now for your father," said Ben. "Is he old?" "Yes, very old," said Eva. "How old?" "Well, quite twenty-eight," said Eva. "He's much older than that," said Eric; "he's going to be thirty-five; he said so this morning." "And what is he fond of?" asked Ben. "Is he fond of golf?" "He plays golf," said the boy, "but he's chiefly fond of fishing. He's always going off to fish at a place called Stockbridge." "What is his favourite food?" Ben asked. After a good deal of difference of opinion and some heat, it was decided that their father was most addicted to eggs, of which he ate two every morning boiled for four minutes. "And do you want to join in these presents?" Ben asked, "and give each of them one that costs five shillings, or do you want to be independent?" This led to more debate and more heat, and it was at last settled that they would rather not unite but would deal separately with their parents. "Very well," said Ben, "this is what I suggest. That one of you should give your father a little old book on fishing which we will get downstairs, and the other should give him two very pretty china egg-cups. And one should give your mother a box of purple sealing-wax for her letters (which is a good kind of present "Close by, in Eaton Square," said the boy. "We pass here every day and we've always wanted to come in, but we've never had a real domestic problem before." "And what do you collect?" Ben asked. "Because every boy collects something, doesn't he?" "Motor-cars," said Eric. "Motor-cars!" Ben exclaimed. "He doesn't mean the cars themselves," said Eva. "Really, Eric, you are so silly! What he means is, he writes down in a book the numbers of all the cars he sees and the names of the makers of all he knows. I wish he wouldn't," she added, sadly; "it makes our walks so dreary for me." "It's the only thing that makes walks possible," said Eric. They started to go out. At the door the boy stopped. "Are you sure we oughtn't to pay you something?" he asked. "Quite," said Ben. "I think you're a wonderful adviser," said Eva. |