After Don's discovery, things settled down into their normal course, and the days followed one another in a monotonous row. Weeks passed, and with the first really cold snap came the Christmas holidays.
Miss Carter and the two girls started on a Friday afternoon for Old Chester. There was only one cloud on their happy day and that had been the last good-bys to Sally, who, with Daphne, had come down to the station to see them off.
"I simply refuse to think of school without her," Phyllis said, as the train pulled out of the tunnel and roared through the northern end of the city.
"Not only school," sighed Janet, "but afternoons and Sundays. No more skating parties at the rink, no more walks in the park, and no more Saturday evenings at the movies, with Sally to make us laugh at the wrong places."
"Oh, come, children, it's not as bad as that," Miss Carter protested. "Sally will be home for the Easter holidays, and June isn't so very far away."
"But we are going to Tom's in June," Phyllis reminded her.
"And when we come back Sally will be going back to that hateful old school again," Janet added tragically.
"Oh, dear, dear, dear," laughed Auntie Mogs; "it's a very black world, isn't it? I wonder, if I told you a secret, if you would cheer up and see the sun shining once more?"
"What is it?"—the girls leaned forward eagerly; they had caught the note of mystery in their aunt's voice.
"Well," said Auntie Mogs very solemnly, "it's only the beginning of a secret, so you mustn't take it too seriously; but, just for fun, suppose that next year Sally didn't go back to school alone; suppose the Page twins went with her."
"Auntie Mogs!" Phyllis and Janet exclaimed so loudly that several people in the parlor car turned to look at them, and one old gentleman winked above his open paper.
"I only said suppose," Auntie Mogs reminded them, and she picked up her paper with the most casual air in the world and began to read.
It is not difficult to imagine what the topic of conversation was during the rest of the trip. In fact, they were still talking about it as they drew in to the station.
"I hope I see somebody I know!" Janet exclaimed, as they followed the porter with their bags; "but I don't suppose I will. It's exciting, just the same; I feel as if I were dreaming," and she sighed happily.
Dreaming or not, it is certain that she was totally unprepared for the sight that awaited her on the little platform. All Old Chester seemed to be waiting to welcome her, and she stood looking at them in a daze.
The Blake girls and their mother were almost under her feet as she stepped from the train, and Martha was just behind them. Harry Waters's grin of welcome seemed a thing apart from his freckled face as he took the bags away from the porter, his mother directing him fussily the while. And off, a little to one side, stood Mrs. Todd, tall and mannish as ever, but smiling her heartfelt welcome.
There was a hub-bub of greetings that lasted for several minutes, then Mrs. Todd took command of affairs in her usual masterly way.
"Come along, Moggie, and call those children or we'll never get home. My carriage is waiting just around the corner; the horses don't like the train, sensible beasts, so Peter had to hold them. I suppose he's died of impatience by now though," she added, smiling.
"Go with Mrs. Todd, dearie," Martha directed as she had always done. "I am going home with Tim and the trunks, and I'll be there before you."
"All right," Janet agreed, smiling. It did seem good to hear her old nurse's orders again. "Come on, Phyl," she called.
Phyllis nodded good-by to the Blake girls and joined her.
"If Sally were here she would call on Aunt Jane's poll parrot to witness the mob,"—she laughed. "Aren't you proud, Jan?"
"Not a bit. Why should I be? They came to welcome you just as much as they did me."
They joined their aunt and Mrs. Todd and walked to the back of the station, where Harry, with Peter's aid, was stowing away the bags.
Janet could hardly believe her eyes, for it was a changed Peter indeed. Gone were the faded blue overalls and the torn straw hat; a well-fitting overcoat and a cap took their place, but they did not succeed in hiding the mop of hair or the merry blue eyes.
"Hello, fairy princess," he greeted and then stopped, confused, as both girls smiled up at him.
"Well, which are you?" he demanded, and Janet held her breath. Would he, or wouldn't he know her?
A clear, jolly laugh reassured her.
"You had me guessing for a minute, but now I know." He took Janet's hand and wrung it. "It's great to see you again," he said, still smiling.
Janet introduced Phyllis and Miss Carter, and they all got into the carriage.
"Come and see us to-morrow, Harry," Janet called, as they drove off.
"Morning, you betcha," Harry answered, waving his hat.
"Child, don't make too many plans," Mrs. Todd warned. "Peter and I have filled up as much of your time as we dared."
"And we dared an awful lot," Peter added, laughing. "Fact is, I don't think we left you more than a few minutes a day."
"Oh, tell us what we have to do?" Janet begged.
"One thing at a time," Peter replied gravely. "In case you forget, to-morrow, if your Royal Highness so pleases, you are to take lunch with us and inspect your domain. You will find many changes, but I think you will approve of them all."
"Not the Enchanted Kingdom?" Janet protested.
"No, that is almost exactly as you left it," Peter assured her.
"Oh, Jan, I can see the house," Phyllis called, as they left the tiny village behind them, and Janet's heart beat so fast as she recognized the two big chimneys that looked, in the twilight, as though they were swinging the widow's walk between them, that she thought she would surely suffocate.
Peter drew up to the old carriage block with a flourish, and they all jumped out. Martha was standing in the doorway to welcome them again. They said good night to Mrs. Todd and Peter, and promised to be ready when the carriage called for them the next day.
Janet walked up the garden path holding tight to Phyllis's hand, as though she feared to wake up. Everything in the house was exactly as she had left it. The old grandfather clock ticked out its steady song, and the polished table reflected the shining candlesticks as of old.
Janet looked at her grandmother's door half fearfully.
"Go upstairs and take off your wraps," Martha was saying, "and then come down. Your grandmother wants to see you before dinner."
Janet still held Phyllis's hand, as a few minutes later she knocked at that closed door.
Mrs. Page proped herself up on her elbow and surveyed her two granddaughters; her small bright eyes seemed more restless than ever. They roved all over the room.
"Well, what have you got to say?" she demanded in the old querulous tone.
"How are you, Grandmother?" Janet spoke first, and she laid her hand timidly on the withered one that lay on the white counterpane.
"Hello, Grandmother; it's awfully nice to see you again. How are you?" Phyllis, undaunted as always, leaned and kissed the withered cheek.
Mrs. Page laughed, a hard cackling laugh.
"You're as alike as two peas," she said, "but there's a mighty difference. Janet, you haven't changed much," she added.
"Oh, but I have," Janet insisted, forgetting her self-consciousness for the moment.
"Well, you don't show it," her grandmother snapped, and before Janet could stop she heard herself saying, "Yes, Grandmother," in the patient, respectful voice she had always used.
"How do you like us dressed alike?" Phyllis inquired cheerfully.
"Your hair's mussy," Mrs. Page replied shortly. "Why don't you braid it?"
"Oh, but it's so much more becoming this way," laughed Phyllis.
"Fiddlesticks!" The word seemed to terminate the interview, for after it was uttered Mrs. Page turned over, her face to the wall.
"Good night, Grandmother," Janet said softly, but Phyllis lingered long enough to ask,
"Are you quite comfy, dear? Sha'n't I push this pillow so?" she won a grudging "good night" for her pains.
After supper the girls went up to the widow's walk. It was a cold, clear night, myriad stars winked down at them from the ice-blue sky, below them the water lapped the beach incessantly, and the foam sparkled in the starshine.
The girls watched it in silence for a minute, and then Phyllis said,
"Tell me something, Jan; does New York seem like a dream now that you're back or does Old Chester?"
"Old Chester does," Janet replied after a little; "it all seems as though my life here was a million years ago, instead of three short months. I wonder why?"
"Because you're happier in New York, my angel child," Phyllis declared happily. "And now let's go down again. I love your widow's walk, but I am frozen to death."
They went down together and found Auntie Mogs sitting before the fire in the living-room, roasting chestnuts, while Martha stood in the doorway and offered suggestions and gossip.
It was late before they went to bed, but when Janet finally fell asleep she was still holding Phyllis's hand in her firm grasp.
"If the ice didn't choke up the inlet I would row you over to your kingdom, Princess," Peter said the next morning, as Janet took her place beside him in the carriage. "It would seem ever so much more like old times, wouldn't it?"
Janet nodded and laughed.
"Indeed it would. I wonder where my old row-boat is. I left it on the beach."
"And I found it there, very much the worse for wear, and in sad need of a home," Peter continued for her. "So I towed it over to our landing, and now it is high and dry on the rafters in the barn, along with my canoe."
"Oh, Peter, do you remember the day you taught me to paddle?" Janet asked, laughing.
"I certainly do. I wasn't perfectly sure that we would ever get home again; that storm came up so suddenly."
"But we did, just in time to be arrested." They both laughed so hard at the memory of that never-to-be-forgotten day that Phyllis, in the back seat with Auntie Mogs, called,
"What are you two roaring over?"
"Oh, something funny that happened last summer," Janet replied.
"Haven't you ever told your sister about it?" Peter inquired, and Janet shook her head.
"Then I'll tell you, Phyllis," Peter promised; "but I'll wait until we are on the scene of action."
"There are a lot of things I want to ask you,"—Phyllis laughed, "and a lot of places I want to see. Jan's no good at telling stories, she leaves out all the most interesting part."
"Well, you shall have a true and minute description from me, never fear," Peter told her.
"Let me drive," Janet begged a minute later, and Peter changed places with her, and for the rest of the drive he talked to Phyllis and Auntie Mogs, for Janet was too taken up with the spirited team to have any time for conversation.
The Enchanted Kingdom presented a strangely orderly view. The road was trim and the gravel raked smoothly. The barns and outhouses were painted white, and they looked surprisingly clean against the gray sky. The house itself had lost all its rakish and forlorn look, though it retained, in spite of paint, its inviting air of mystery.
Gone were the dilapidated boards that had barred the windows, and white curtains fluttered in their stead. Green box-trees guarded each side of the white door, whose brass knocker shone in proof of the care lavished upon it.
"Well, what does the Princess think about it?" Peter demanded, delighted at Janet's look of surprise.
"I'd never have recognized it," she confessed. "What a lot you have done to it!"
"Come and see the inside. That's the best of all," Peter told her.
Mrs. Todd welcomed them from the doorway, and the tour of inspection began at once, for Janet would not hear of taking off her hat and coat until she had seen everything.
"All right; we'll leave the kingdom till the last," Peter said, as he followed Mrs. Todd from room to room.
Beautiful old furniture stood where Janet remembered the sheeted ghosts that had frightened her so many times. Gay chintz curtains vied with the copper and brass to liven the rooms that had always been shrouded in darkness. Upstairs the bedrooms were a happy combination of rag rugs and wonderful big beds, some of them so high that steps were necessary.
Peter had a den adjoining his room, and it was filled with his pet books and pictures. He exhibited it with pride, and Janet saw him slip his arm around Mrs. Todd and give her a hug when he thought no one was looking.
At last only the Enchanted Kingdom remained, and when Janet entered it she found herself alone. Perhaps it was just as well—the sight of the old rows of books, the table and the window-seat where she had spent so many happy hours sent tears to her eyes, and she had to blink hard to keep them from falling.
She sat on the floor, scorning the comfy chairs, and pulled out book after book; each one was in its same place, and she patted them all as though they were alive.
After a long time Peter came in to find her. Mrs. Todd had sent him to tell her that luncheon was ready, but when he found her sitting on the floor, he forgot his message and dropped down beside her.
They were both very late for luncheon.
So many things filled the days that followed that a whole volume would be required to chronicle them. Janet and Phyllis liked the day before Christmas best of all.
Things began early in the morning.
"Get up, lazy bones!" Janet shook Phyllis, deaf to her protests. "You can't lie in bed this morning," she admonished.
Phyllis sat up and opened two sleepy eyes and yawned, then, memory asserting itself, she jumped out of bed with one spring.
"Of course I can't," she cried. "We have to go and get the Christmas tree. I was forgetting."
"Look out of the window," Janet directed.
Phyllis looked. The ground was covered with snow, and the world, as far as she could see anyway, was decked in its Yuletide white.
They hurried with their dressing and, much to Martha's concern, with their breakfasts as well.
"Here they come!" Phyllis cried, "and, oh, Jan, they are in a sleigh. I can hear the bells."
"Oh, I hoped the snow would be deep enough!" Janet exclaimed; "and it must be. Three cheers for old Jack Frost!"
They answered Peter's whistle by appearing at the door, and he and Jack Belding jumped down from the sleigh to greet them. Jack Belding was a school friend of Peter's. He had come to Old Chester several days before. He was a tall, lanky youth with nondescript hair and eyes, but a sense of humor that would have assured him a welcome in any company.
Phyllis and Janet had liked him at once, much to Peter's relief and his own secret satisfaction. He always addressed them as, "You, Janet, or you, Phyllis," and then shut his eyes until the right one came, for he could not tell the one from the other.
"Was there ever such a day?" Phyllis demanded as she jumped on to the big sleigh with Peter's help.
"Never in all this world," he replied seriously.
They started off at a smart gait, stopping at the rectory for Alice and Mildred Blake and at the Waters' for Harry. Then away they went along an old back road that wound up into the hills.
When they stopped they were all glad to get out and stretch. The girls walked up and down to get warm, and the boys made short work of chopping down a tall bushy Christmas tree.
The ride back was exciting, for they had to hold the slippery tree on the sleigh and stay on themselves. As Janet was driving at top speed this was not easy, but they reached the little church at last and carried the tree triumphantly into the Sunday-school room.
Then they flocked into the rectory for luncheon. Janet and Peter dropped behind.
"What does it make you think of?" Peter asked, laughing.
"Don't," Janet pleaded; "it's still too awful to remember. If I thought to-night was going to be anything likethatnight I would go straight home and go to bed."
"Don't you worry. It won't, Princess," Peter replied protectingly.
After luncheon the fun began. They all set to and trimmed the tree, Phyllis, by common consent, was master of ceremonies, and they all hurried to do her bidding.
"Jack, if you eatallthe popcorn strings I don't see what we shall have left for the tree," she complained once.
"Sorry," Jack apologized, "but that's one failing I have; in fact, I might add that it is the only one, without fear of boasting. Put me near a string of popcorn and I just naturally find myself eating it, and the funny thing is I don't like it unless it is strung." He spoke with such gravity that the rest shouted with laughter.
"Very well," said Phyllis, "we will put you beyond temptation's way. Go out and bring me back a whole lot of boughs. I want them for the chancel."
"Do you mean it?"
"I do."
"Very well, but if I am frozen I hope you have the grace to be ashamed of your heartlessness."
"Oh, I promise I'll be terribly ashamed," Phyllis called after him, as he walked dejectedly from the room.
When the tree was finished, and the church had been decked with boughs and holly, they all went home for a well-merited rest. The crown-event of the day was still before them.
A party at the Enchanted Kingdom to which all the countryside had been bidden.
And it was a party indeed!
Nothing could have been so totally different from Muriel's masquerade, yet it rivaled it in fun. Phyllis and Janet wore dresses exactly alike, and had the joy of playing their old tricks on a new company.
They danced and played games until twelve o'clock, and then Peter and Jack took them home in the sleigh.
On Christmas Day they went again to Mrs. Todd's and found all their gifts piled up under their little tree. Auntie Mogs had sent over even the New York presents and the ones from Tom.
One little box for Phyllis was the greatest surprise of all. It contained a very beautiful bracelet set with a single large sapphire, and tied to it was a card which read—
"Merry Christmas to my girl, from Don"
"The darling," Phyllis said happily as she clasped it over her arm; "what a wonderful gift!"
"Indeed it is, my dear," Auntie Mogs agreed, "but"—she added with a smile, "I think you deserve it."
Jack looked at it gleefully. "Ha, ha!" he exclaimed, "now I can tell them apart!"
He spoke with pride, but his fall was not far off, for before many minutes had passed Phyllis had slipped the bracelet to Janet, and his confusion was worse than ever.
Examination week had come. Every face in the big study hall gave ample proof to the fact. Bowed heads and narrowed eyes pored over open text-books, and a strained and unnatural silence hung over the room.
Even in the ten-minute recess only whispers could be heard, and most of the heads kept on over their books.
"Sally's Aunt Jane's poll parrot," Phyllis whispered. "I haven't a chance in a thousand of passing math. I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't know that Ducky Lucky will be delighted. How do you feel, Jan?"
"Scared to death," Janet admitted. "My hands are frozen, and my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth."
"Oh, I wish you'd keep still," Muriel fretted. "I'm trying to study."
"What's the use?" Rosamond asked. "You can't learn things at the last minute, so why try?"
Muriel put her fingers in her ears and bowed again over her book.
The bell rang, and every girl gave a deep sigh. It was partly relief and partly dread.
Miss Baxter entered the room, her arms full of papers.
"She's having the time of her life," Phyllis said crossly. "I bet she flunks every one of us."
The papers were distributed to the various classes, and Miss Baxter took her place on the platform. A heavy silence descended upon the room, only broken by the scratching of many pen points. Miss Baxter insisted in having her papers written in ink and written neatly; the combination was not always easy to achieve.
Phyllis, who had moved her seat half way across the room, surveyed the questions before her in dismay. There did not appear to be one out of the ten that she could do. She buried her head in her hands and waited for an inspiration. None came, and she looked over at Janet.
"She looks as though she positively liked it," she said to herself. "Well, I suppose I might as well do something."
She settled to work and scratched away for two long hours. She knew she was making mistakes, but she went ahead, determined to have a filled and neatly written paper if nothing else.
She had finished long before Janet, but she waited until she saw her folding her paper before she signed her name to her own. They followed each other to the desk, Miss Baxter not at all sure which was which.
"Well?" Phyllis demanded as they met in the hall.
"Well, what?" Janet inquired.
"Did you flunk?"
"I don't believe so; it was easy."
"Easy!"
"I thought so, anyway. I answered them all, and they seemed to work out right."
"Hum."
"What's the trouble?"
"Oh, nothing, only I flunked."
"How do you know?"
"Because I just wrote numbers."
"Oh, well, cheer up. Maybe they were the right numbers." Janet was determined to be cheerful. She had found the examination much easier than she had expected and she felt reasonably sure that she had passed.
"I don't much care; we've the rest of the day to ourselves anyway; let's go home." Phyllis made the suggestion light heartedly enough, for lessons never worried her for very long and mathematics least of all.
They walked home through the park and met Don. He was chasing brownies as usual, and poor Nannie was finding it difficult to keep up with him. She never let him out of her sight for even an instant, and every man that passed was a possible kidnapper in her old eyes.
Don greeted the girls with joy.
"I were chasing a brownie!" he exclaimed, "but he got away from me."
He took Phyllis by the hand and led her towards the lake. Janet sat down on the bench beside his nurse.
"Why does Don always say were, instead of was?" she inquired.
"'Deed, miss, that's his father's fault," Nannie replied. "One day Master Don said 'they was going' and his father picked him up on his lap and he said to him, said he, 'Don, never say was, say were.' The poor lamb was so startled that he never forgot, and I can't make him change for the life of me."
"Don't try," Janet laughed; "it's awfully cunning to hear him say were! I hope he never changes."
Phyllis came back, a brown leaf in her hand, and Don tugging at her skirts.
"Here we are, Nannie, all safe and sound, and we caught the brownie." She gave the leaf to Don, and she and Janet went on their way.
"Let's stop and see Akbar," Phyllis suggested.
"I knew you'd say that," Janet laughed. "What makes you so fond of that animal."
"Oh, I don't know; he always makes me want to do something with my hands."
"Paint?"
"No, I don't think so."
"Mold, perhaps?" Janet asked the question idly, but Phyllis spun around and stopped as she heard it.
"That's it!" she cried excitedly. "I want to mold him. I never realized it until this minute. Come on, let's hurry home. There's some putty in the cellar and I'm going to try."
Janet, used to her twin's sudden whims, followed in amused silence.
When they reached home they found a letter from Sally awaiting them.
"Oh, read it quick!" Phyllis exclaimed. "No, wait a minute. Let's go up to the snuggery and get comfy." She went off to find some putty and joined Janet a few minutes later.
"Now read," she said, as she cuddled down into the corner of the couch.
Janet opened the letter and began,
"Dearest of Twins (she read):
"I am in the infirmary, pretending to have a cold but don't waste time worrying about me for it's all a fake to get a chance to breathe, which is something that I find you are not supposed to do at Hilltop (isn't that a precious name for a school? I like it better every time I think of it), except when you sleep.
"I know you both think me a heartless wretch for not having written oftener, but honestly I haven't time. It is go, go, go, from morning till night. I used to think we kept pretty busy but we were tortoises compared to the rate here. Up every morning at seven, lessons begin at nine, lunch is at twelve-thirty; more lessons until two, and then the rest of the day is yours. No study hours unless you are reported by some teacher for not being prepared, then the wrath of the gods descends upon your head and you are packed off to Assembly Hall and made to work for two hours a day for a whole week. You may better believe that we study to keep our blessed privilege.
"The girls have a joke on me, and they tease all the time. I said Aunt Jane's poll parrot just once. That was enough! They pretend now that there is such a bird and that I keep him hidden in my room. They ask after his health morning, noon and night, and ask me quite seriously to consult him. Even the teachers do it. I nearly died in history class when Miss Jenks, a love and nothing but a girl, just out of college, asked me the date of the Battle of Hastings, I couldn't remember and she looked at me so impishly and said, 'Better ask Aunt Jane's poll parrot.' Imagine Ducky Lucky doing such a thing.
"I haven't told you one thing that I wanted to and this letter is all one grand jumble, but I'll try to do better next time.
"You simply must come next year; must, must, must. I've written Mother to persuade your aunt, and she has promised to try.
"Write soon and forgive blots. One of the girls is reading over my shoulder and she says to blame the blots on Aunt Jane's poll parrot, and to be sure and come next year.
"Oceans of love,"SALLY."
Janet folded up the letter and laughed softly.
"Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?"
Phyllis stop trying to produce Akbar's image in putty long enough to reply.
"I should say it does. No study hours! What bliss! Auntie Mogs simply has to let us go!" she exclaimed. "And what is better still, no Ducky Lucky! I wish I knew if our papers were corrected or not."
She would have been more than surprised had she known what was going on at that very moment.
Miss Baxter was busy correcting papers. She finished Janet's and marked it with a big red B; then the fates stepped in. Miss Baxter was called to the telephone. When she returned to her desk the paper next for correction happened to be Phyllis's. Miss Baxter saw the name and frowned; she always frowned when she thought of the twins.
"Funny," she said to herself. "I thought I corrected this paper. So I did and I decided to give it a B. The telephone confused me."
With her usual precision she marked a B on the right-hand corner of the paper and pushed it from her.
Phyllis gazed at it the next morning in joyful surprise. Had she been any one but Phyllis she would have at least glanced at her mistakes, but being Phyllis, she accepted her good luck with joy and threw the paper into the waste-paper basket. Not seeing Miss Baxter's mistake, she could not draw her attention to it.
So the Page twins tricked Miss Baxter once again, and the joke was no less amusing because of their ignorance.
Spring made an early appearance in New York and decked itself more charmingly than ever. The trees showed tiny green buds, and the grass freshened under the warm showers, almost as you looked.
Jonquils and crocuses appeared to welcome the fat robins that returned to their nests, and all Nature hummed and fluttered in its eager preparations.
Janet and Phyllis were busy planning a farewell party, as they sat in the sunshine in the park one Sunday morning.
"If we could only think of something different to do," Phyllis wailed. "I am so tired of dances and skating parties and afternoon teas. We've been going to them all winter."
"I know," Janet agreed, "but what else is there to do?"
"Nothing, I suppose," Phyllis replied. "So which shall it be?"
"I don't know,"—Janet refused to decide. "Let's ask Auntie Mogs."
"No, let's make up our own minds," Phyllis insisted. "If we were only at Old Chester we could have a picnic."
"But there'd be no one to go to it but Harry Waters and the Blakes," Janet reminded her.
"That's right, I forgot Peter and Jack are at school; but anyhow a picnic would be fun."
"Where could you have one around here?" Janet demanded, practical as ever.
Phyllis looked at her disapprovingly.
"Jan, you're a wet blanket!" she exclaimed.
"I'm not. I'm only trying to be sensible."
"Well, stop; it's too gorgeous a day to be anything but happy, so don't let's bother about that stupid party any more."
"What party was ever stupid, may I ask?" a voice inquired from above them, and they looked up to see Mr. Keith.
They made room for him on the bench, and he sat down between them.
"Tell me about the stupid party," he invited.
"It isn't one really," Janet explained; "it's just going to be."
"We're going to give it," Phyllis continued, "and it's going to be stupid because we can't think of anything to do that hasn't been done a million times before."
Mr. Keith's eyes twinkled, but he answered very gravely:
"I see."
"A picnic would be wonderful this weather, but there's no place to have a picnic in the city," Phyllis went on dejectedly.
"Quite so," Mr. Keith agreed; "let's all think for two minutes and then see who has an idea."
They thought, and at the end of the two minutes he said,
"Any ideas?"
"Not a one."
"Worse than ever."
Mr. Keith smiled and stood up.
"Then I have a suggestion to make," he said. "When is this party to be?"
"A week from yesterday," Phyllis told him.
"Then don't make any plans until you hear from me. I will think hard all day, and to-morrow sometime I will call you up, and now I must go and find Don. I promised to watch him sail his boat." He lifted his silk hat and walked away, humming a little tune.
"I like him, ever so much," Janet said as she watched him.
"I adore him!" Phyllis exclaimed. "He's a perfect darling, but then he's Don's father, so he'd have to be."
The promised 'phone message did not come until Monday evening after dinner. The girls made up their minds that he had forgotten all about them, and had started new plans.
Phyllis answered the 'phone.
"Am I speaking to the Page twins!" a voice asked.
"Part of them," Phyllis laughed.
"Well, I have a message for them both. They are to be ready to go on a picnic Saturday morning at ten o'clock."
"Oh, but—" gasped Phyllis.
"And in the meantime they are not to worry about their guests. They have all been invited and they have all accepted," the voice went on, "and they are not to worry about food either, for the luncheon has all been attended to." The voice stopped.
"Is that you, Mr. Keith?" Phyllis demanded, but a laughing "good night" was her only answer.
She flew back to the snuggery to tell Janet the news, and they both went down to the library to tell Auntie Mogs. She did not look as surprised as she might have been expected to, but they were too excited to notice that.
"What do you suppose he means?" Phyllis demanded. "Where can we be going?"
"Auntie Mogs, do say something," Janet begged.
"Wait and see,"—Miss Carter laughed, and they had to be content with that.
Saturday dawned clear and warm; the sun beamed and spread his rays to the farthest corner of the sky. It looked as though some one had ordered a day for a picnic, and Dame Nature had done her best to satisfy them.
At ten o'clock the girls heard loud tootings, and Janet, who was putting on her hat, hurried to the window.
"Oh, Phyl, do look; three automobiles full of every girl and boy you ever knew."
They rushed downstairs, and Mr. Keith met them at the door.
"All ready?" he inquired. "Come along, Miss Carter; we will lead the way."
The girls were too excited to answer. They followed their aunt to the waiting cars, where a babble of greetings met them. Mr. Keith helped Miss Carter into the first one, and the girls into the second.
"Go ahead," he called to the chauffeurs, and jumped in after them.
Phyllis could see that Mrs. Vincent was in the last car. She smiled and waved to her.
Daphne and Chuck and Jerry and Howard were in their car, and they squeezed up to make room for Janet and Phyllis. Mr. Keith sat in the front beside the driver.
A buzz of questions and speculations rose from every car, but no one seemed to have the least idea where they were going.
They picked their way carefully through the city streets, but once in the country they flew along. Towns whizzed by, and at last they slowed up for Poughkeepsie, crossed the river on the ferry, and snorted up the hill on the other side.
As they reached the top of a hill and began the descent everybody said "Oooooh," for beneath them and on every side was a veritable fairyland of apple blossoms.
They stopped at an old farmhouse, and all jumped out to find the picnic spread out for them under the apple trees. Chicken, salads, tarts and every kind of fruit covered the white cloth, and the air had whipped their appetites into being. They needed no second invitation but threw themselves on to the ground and did justice to the tempting repast.
After luncheon they wandered about under the trees until it was time to go home.
As each guest passed Mrs. Vincent before they got into the motors, she gave them each a box. They opened them in surprise, that turned quickly to exclamations of delight as they gazed at the contents.
Tiny gold butterflies and enameled wings for the girls and stick pins with bumble bees in black and gold for the boys. On the back of each pin was the date and Janet's and Phyllis's initials.
The girls were so excited watching their guests' delight that they forgot to open their own boxes until Daphne reminded them of them.
"I know yours will be different," she said.
They opened them to find butterflies, like the rest, but twice as large. On the back was inscribed, "In memory of the stupid party."
"Oh, Mr. Keith, how are we ever going to thank you!" Janet exclaimed.
"It has been the most beautiful stupid party that ever was," Phyllis added. "Oh, please, please, believe that we are truly grateful."
"Nonsense," laughed Mr. Keith. "You forget I am still heavily in your debt, and to-day has only added to that indebtedness, for I can honestly say I never enjoyed a picnic as much as this in all my life."
Auntie Mogs looked up from her mail at the breakfast table and smiled at Phyllis and Janet as they took their places, one on either side of her.
"Here is something that may interest you," and she held out two letters.
Phyllis took one and Janet the other.
"It's from Tommy; do listen,"—Phyllis almost knocked over the cream pitcher in her excitement.
"Dear family"—(she read)
"I am expecting you on the fourteenth of this month and may the date hurry up and get here. I will meet you at the station, prepared for your luggage and live stock. Don't get lost on the way, please, as this West is rather large and I might have difficulty in finding you.
"The conductor will see that you change at the junction and don't forget that you get out at Quantos.
"My ranch is so clean that it doesn't know itself, and some of my cowboys are laying in a stock of new collars in honor of your arrival. But none of them can compare with the pleasure that I get out of every minute of the day when I think that you will soon be with me.
"Your affectionate nephew and brother,"TOM."