First Period First Narrative - Chapter IX

June twenty-first, the day of the birthday, was cloudy and unsettled at
sunrise, but towards noon it cleared up bravely.

We, in the servants' hall, began this happy anniversary, as usual, by
offering our little presents to Miss Rachel, with the regular speech
delivered annually by me as the chief. I follow the plan adopted by the
Queen in opening Parliament--namely, the plan of saying much the same
thing regularly every year. Before it is delivered, my speech (like the
Queen's) is looked for as eagerly as if nothing of the kind had ever
been heard before. When it is delivered, and turns out not to be the
novelty anticipated, though they grumble a little, they look forward
hopefully to something newer next year. An easy people to govern, in the
Parliament and in the Kitchen--that's the moral of it. After breakfast,
Mr. Franklin and I had a private conference on the subject of the
Moonstone--the time having now come for removing it from the bank at
Frizinghall, and placing it in Miss Rachel's own hands.

Whether he had been trying to make love to his cousin again, and had got
a rebuff--or whether his broken rest, night after night, was aggravating
the queer contradictions and uncertainties in his character--I don't
know. But certain it is, that Mr. Franklin failed to show himself at his
best on the morning of the birthday. He was in twenty different minds
about the Diamond in as many minutes. For my part, I stuck fast by
the plain facts a we knew them. Nothing had happened to justify us in
alarming my lady on the subject of the jewel; and nothing could alter
the legal obligation that now lay on Mr. Franklin to put it in his
cousin's possession. That was my view of the matter; and, twist and turn
it as he might, he was forced in the end to make it his view too. We
arranged that he was to ride over, after lunch, to Frizinghall, and
bring the Diamond back, with Mr. Godfrey and the two young ladies, in
all probability, to keep him company on the way home again.