She came out of the kitchen into the front room. (Dress: White
muslin--unspeakable extravagance in a town of smuts.)

"It's thy birthday, lass?"

She nodded, smiling.

"Well, tak' this."

He handed her a ten-pound note.

"Oh, thank you, uncle!" she cried, just on the calm side of
effusiveness.

At this point the surprise occurred.

There was another ten-pound note in the cashbox. His fingers went for a
stroll on their own account and returned with that note.

"Hold on!" he admonished her for jumping to conclusions. "And this!" And
he gave her a second note. He was much more startled than she was.

"Oh, _thank_ you, uncle!" And then, laughing: "Why, it's nearly a
sovereign for every year of my life!"

"How old art?"

"Twenty-six."