It was breakfast-time and Mother was smiling.
‘I’ve sold another story, darlings,’she said.‘We can have cakes for tea.’
The three children looked at each other. Then Bobbie said,‘Can we have the cakes on Thursday instead of today? It’s Perks’s birthday on Thursday.’
‘How do you know?’asked Mother.
‘I showed him my brooch—the one you gave me for my birthday—and I asked him about his birthday. He says he doesn’t keep birthdays and more, because he has other things to keep—his wife and children! But he said it was on the 15th ,and that’s Thursday.’
‘And we thought we could make a birthday tea for him,’said Peter.‘He’s been very good to us.’
‘All right,’said Mother.
But cakes didn’t seem a very exciting birthday present.
‘We can give him flowers,’said Bobbie, when they were discussing it in the garden, later that day.
Then Peter had an idea.‘Perks is nice to everybody,’he said.‘There must be lots of people in the village who will want to help us give him a nice birthday. Let’s ask everybody.’
Bobbie wasn’t sure.‘Mother said we weren’t to ask people for things.’
‘Not for ourselves,’said Peter.‘It’s all right to ask for other people. I’ll ask the old gentleman, too.’
So they went to the village. Some people were kind, and some were not.
‘It’s my birthday tomorrow,’said old Mrs Ransome at the Post Office,‘Nobody will remember mine. Why should I give anything to Perks? Go away!’
But other people gave things—a pipe, a tin of tea, a waling stick—and others promised to give small presents, too.
Early the next morning, Bobbie and Phyllis went into the garden and cut some roses. They put them into a box with one of Bobbie’s prettiest handkerchiefs. Then they wrote on a piece of paper: For Mrs Ransome for her birthday, with our love, and put it inside the box. Bobbie and Phyllis took the box down to the Post Office, and put it inside the door when the old woman wasn’t looking.
While they were gone, Peter told his mother about Perks’s presents.‘We’re not doing it because he’s poor,’said Peter, ‘but because we like him.’
‘I hope he understands that,’said Mother.
On Thursday morning, the children went to fetch the presents which other people had promised—eggs, meat, tomatoes. The old lady at the Post Office was standing outside as they went by.
‘I want to thank you for the roses,’ she said.
‘We’re pleased you liked them,’said Phyllis.
‘And here’s your box,’said Mrs Ransome, giving it back to them. It was now full of shiny red apples. She smiled.‘The Perks’s children will like them. And I’ve got a pram in the back of the shop. It was for my daughter’s first child, but the child died after six mouths. I’d like Mrs Perks to have it for her little boy. Will you take it?’
‘Thank you, ’said Bobbie.‘We will.’
The children put all the presents in the pram, and at three o’clock they pushed it to the Perks’s little yellow house. Mrs Perks and her young children were surprised to see them.
‘We know it’s Mr Perks’s birthday,’said Peter.‘And we’ve brought some presents for him.’
The woman’s eyes got bigger and bigger with surprise as each thing was taken from the pram.
‘Perks has never had a birthday like it!’she said.
The cakes and the presents were put on the table, then the children hid in the other room when they heard Perks coming home from work. They wanted to surprise him by jumping out and saying‘Happy birthday!’after he’d seen the presents.
‘What’s all this?’they heard him say.‘What’s that pram doing here?’His wife explained, but too quietly for the children to hear. But they heard Perks shout,‘I’m not having any of it!’We’re managed all these years, asking people for nothing, and I’m not going to start taking things now. We may be poor, but we don’t need charity.’
Bobbie ran into the other room.‘We thought you’d be pleased!’she cried.
‘We didn’t mean to do anything wrong,’said Peter, following her.
‘I-I’ll never be kind to anyone again!’said Phyllis, starting to cry.
‘Don’t you understand?’said Perks.‘People in the village will laugh at me .“Poor Perks, he can’t take care of his own family. We have to give him things.”That’s what they’ll be saying now.’
‘No!’cried Bobbie.‘It’s not charity! People were happy to give you birthday presents. The man at the village shop said,“I’m pleased to give something to Mr Perks. He always pays his bills.”And the woman at the Post Office wanted you to have the pram. It was for her granddaughter, but the little girl died.’
‘I’m not sending the pram back, Bert,’said Mrs Perks, when she heard this.‘So don’t ask me to .’
‘I—I won’t’said Perks, quietly.
‘And other people said you were kind and polite and hardworking,’said Bobbie.‘They wanted to give you a birthday present. The old gentleman gave Peter a pound for you. He said you were a man who was good at his work. We thought you would like—’
‘Stop!’Perks said suddenly.‘I take back every word I said. I—I don’t know if I was ever so pleased…not only with the presents, but with the kind thoughts of our neighbours. They’re the best presents of all, aren’t they, Nell?’
‘They are!’aGREed his wife, happily.
Perks looked at the children.‘You’ll stay to tea, won’t you?’he said.
‘Oh, yes please!’they said.
