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ic is putting out the tip of his tongue when he thinks no one is looking at him, which is vulgar, even though it is father's birthday. What was I saying? I do get cramped and mixed, huddled up on the floor, scribbling. We're to go for a long drive, to Bee's Head, or somewhere, and the horses and the carriages and the servants and the ferrets and the children and father and all the food are to come too, and we are to have a great ball--no, that's in the evening--and supper, and the fireworks will go off. Dear, dear, where are the fireworks to be squeezed? it's a most confusing sort of day." "Maggie!" suddenly exclaimed Basil. She raised a flushed face. "What are you doing, huddled up on the floor like a ball; and what's that queer squiggly bit of paper in your hand?--it looks all over hieroglyphics. Here, I must see!" he snatched at the paper, held it aloft, and read Marjorie's programme aloud amid the roars of the company. "I was only trying to make what we said less confusing," answered Marjorie. "I was getting it down as hard as I could, and I said I was mixed; anyone else would have been mixed too, I think." "I should rather think they would," said Basil. "So that's the nonsense we have been talking all this time. Thank you, Maggie, for showing us ourselves. Now, sir," here Basil turned round and addressed his father. Mr. Wilton looked at him with the greatest admiration; he felt years younger than his son at the moment. "Now, sir," proceeded Basil, "we cannot go to Bee's Head, and Salter's Point, and the Deep Woods all in the same morning, as the three places happen to be in totally different directions, and as each of them also happens to be from ten to twelve miles from here. We must make a choice, and we must abide by it. It's your birthday, father, and you ought to choose. Which shall it be?" "Thank you, my boy, but I would not have the responsibility of a choice for the world--I don't feel equal to it. You young folks must make the selection among you." "I'm for Bee's Head and the lighthouse!" screamed Eric; "there's a man at the lighthouse of the name of Bolster, and he promised to get me some crabs, and I know he'd like to have a good stare at Shark. I'm for Bee's Head and the lighthouse; that's what I'm for!" "I think the Deep Woods would be best," said Ermengarde. "It's sure to be grilling in the sun to-day, and I expect there'll be a good deal of dust, and the dust and the sun together
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