then flung them about the pajamaed one. When the confusion of kisses, hugs, and birthday greetings had subsided, and Kirk was tucked under the quilt, he said:
"Now see me a story."
"But I can't—not like Ken," Felicia protested.
"Oh, Phil!" Kirk said in a tone of withering reproach. "Silly! A birthday special one, please."
Felicia thought for some time; then she said:
"It's not very nice, but it's a sort of birthday one. It's called The Nine Gifts."
"One for each year," said Kirk, wriggling comfortably.
"Exactly. Once upon a time there was a nice person who lived in an old house on a hill. One autumn day was his birthday, but he was n't thinking of any gifts, because there could be no one to give him anything, and he was quite poor—as far as gold and silver went. So he was feeling just a little sad, because people like to have gifts. He came downstairs and unlocked his door, and opened it to the beautiful young day all strung with dew—"
