1635: A Parcel of Rogues - eARC (41 page)

“What I keep telling him,” chipped in his son, smiling. “But it’s just a birthday present, Vickie. I packed it myself, seeing as how they used to belong to me.”

“What are they?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

Mike Senior even joined in singing “Happy Birthday,” although he might have choked a little when they got to the final refrain.

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday to you,

Happy birthday, Henry Cromwell,

Happy birthday to youuuuuuuuuuu....

He ate a slice of cake, too, and didn’t choke at all. Perhaps his spirits were picked up when he saw that the birthday boy was delighted with the gifts he got from the McCarthys and spent the rest of the day charging around wearing the presents Mike Junior had been given on his sixth birthday, back in 1959 (up-time calendar) and which had now been passed on to Oliver Cromwell’s youngest child. Perched on Henry’s head, a green Irish tweed cap, with a scarf around his neck—green, of course—decorated with Celtic crosses.

“You oughta be ashamed of yourself,” Vickie Mason said to him.

Mike Senior finished swallowing his slice of cake. “I am so far beyond shame it isn’t funny. At this point, I’m just clutching to the hope that my son Darryl knows what the hell he’s doing.”

“You do realize how crazy that sounds?”