deas, wanted to see all the people who
lived in all the houses that are called "The Gables" everywhere drawn
up in a row so that she might examine them. She used to lie awake at
night and wonder how many there would be. "I'm sure mother would be the
most beautiful, anyway," she used to say.

History was Hester's passion. She could read history all day. Here she
differed from Robert Oliver, who was all for geography. Their friends
knew of these tastes, of course, and so Hester's presents were nearly
always history books or portraits of great men, such as Napoleon and
Shakespeare, both of whom she almost worshipped, while Robert's were
compasses and maps. He also had a mapmeasurer (from Mr. Lenox), and at
the moment at which this story opens, his birthday being just over, he
was the possessor of a pedometer, which he carried fastened to his leg,
under his knickerbockers, so that it was certain to register every time
he took a step. He kept a careful record of the distance he had walked
since his birthday, and could tell you at any time what it was, if you
gave him a minute or two to crawl under the table and undo his clothes.
He could be heard grunting in dark places all day long, having been
forbidden by Janet to undress in public.

Robert's birthday was on June 20, Hester's on November 8, and Janet's
on February 28. She had the narrowest escape, you see, of getting
birthdays only once in every four years; which is one of the worst
things that can happen to a human being. Gregory Bruce was a little
less lucky, for his birthday was on December 20, which is so near to
Christmas Day that mean persons have been known to make one gift do for
both events. None the less, Gregory's possessions were very numerous;
for he had many friends, and most of them were careful to keep these
two great anniversaries apart.

Gregory's particular passion just now was the names of engines, of
which he had one of the finest collections in Europe; but a model
aeroplane which Mr. Scott had given him was beginning to turn his
thoughts towards the conquest of the air, and whereas he used to tell
people that he meant to be an engine driver when he grew up, he was now
adding, "or a man like Wilbur Wright."

Most children have wanted to fly ever since "Peter Pan" began, and, as
I dare say you have heard, some have tried from the nursery window,
with perfectly awful results, having neglected to have their shoulders
first touched magically; but Greg