"are you going all the way home with us?" edna asked ben as they left the boat at the wharf.

"yes, mr. ramsey thinks he should stay in new york for the day, and has handed you over to my tender mercies, so if we can get a good train you will be at home in a very few hours."

"now that we are so near i'm just crazy to get there," said dorothy. "will they know exactly when we are coming, ben?"

"we can easily let them know either by telephone or telegraph."

"i think i'd rather surprise them, wouldn't you, edna?"

"it won't be such a big surprise, for mother knows we are coming some time to-day."

"then there is no use in sending word ahead," decided dorothy. "they will be looking for us anyway."

just here mr. ramsey came up. "well, young ladies," he said, "so you are going to leave me. i think this young man can be trusted to take care of you the rest of the way, and i hope as soon as 175jennie gets back you will come in to see her. we have all enjoyed having you with us, and i hope you will feel perfectly at home in our house always."

the little girls thanked him and said they had had a very happy time and wouldn't he tell jennie to come out to see them as soon as she returned. so they parted, and then there was the rush of getting to the train and the pleasant sense of knowing this was the last stage of their journey. ben whiled away the time by asking them ridiculous conundrums which made them so hilarious that more than one fellow traveller smiled in sympathy with their merry laughs.

the more absurd the conundrums the better the children liked them, and those that ben made up as they went along pleased them best of all. "when is a fence not a fence?" asked ben and the answer was, "when it's an advertisement." "what would you do if company came and there were no more tea in the teapot?" was the next question.

"i'd send out for more tea," responded dorothy.

"what would you do, ande?"

"i don't know. what would you?"

"i'd add hot water and serve just as the sign tells you to do."

"but that means for soup."

"well, but it answers just as well for tea. now, here is another one for you. suppose you couldn't get tea, what would you do?

"i'd go without."

"i wouldn't; i'd use horlick's malted milk."

"oh, that is the sign just over there, isn't it? too late, dorothy, we've passed it."

"make up another, ben," urged dorothy.

"well, here goes. if i wanted to be sure of an intellectual meal, what would i do?"

they guessed several things, but ben shook his head at each answer. "i think it is a very hard one," declared edna. "intellectual is a hard word anyhow. you will have to tell us, ben."

"give it up?"

"yes, i do; don't you, dorrie?"

"yes, it is too hard for me."

"then this is the answer: i'd put my roasts through a course of browning. i think that's pretty good myself. i shall have to salt it down to ask your elders. i'll give you an easy one now. why do they call the man who drives the locomotive an engineer?"

edna finally guessed this. "because he is near the engine," she said.

"good girl; go up head," cried ben. "you seem to be improving. now each of you try to make up a limerick and i'll do the same."

"oh, we can't do that," objected dorothy.

"yes, you can if you try. i will give you a model.

there was a young person named dorrie

who said to her comrade, 'i'm sorry

i came on the train,

but i'll do it again

when ben isn't with us to worry.'"

the girls laughed at this and set themselves to work to produce something of the same kind. after many attempts edna gave this:

"there was a young man named benny

who said, 'please give me a penny.

some peanuts i'll buy

all nice and dry,'

but he didn't give us children any."

"that's not bad at all," said ben laughing. "did you mean that for a hint, and do you think i'd buy peanuts and keep them all to myself?"

"oh, no." edna was shocked that he should think she really intended a hint. "i just had to make up something and that was the best i could do."

"oh, dear, i can't get my last line," complained dorothy. "i've tried and tried and i can't find a rhyme for barker and parker. this as far as i can get:

there was a young man named barker

who stayed at the hotel parker

and ate lots of rolls

and drank from the bowls—

i had to say bowls to make it rhyme, though i really meant cups, and there i am stuck."

here ben came to her rescue.

"and drank from the bowls

until his complexion grew darker,"

he added to the amusement of the girls.

they kept up the limericks for some time, though dorothy found it such hard work that she finally refused to try any more, and ben looking at his watch decided it was time to go into the dining-car for dinner. this was a new experience and made a pleasant break in the monotony of the journey. by the time the meal was finished they were so near their own station that the rest of the way seemed nothing at all. at the station they had to change cars or else make the trip by the trolley.

"which shall we do?" asked ben.

"which will get us there first?" asked edna.

"let me see." ben pulled out a time table. "there will be a train in half an hour. it is a pretty good one, and i think will get us there about five minutes ahead of the trolley. it's a choice between sitting in the station or going ahead on the trolley."

"which would you rather do?" dorothy asked him.

"i think perhaps the train will be better on account of the baggage which can go right through with us." so they sat down to wait till their train should be called and found enough to amuse them in watching the people go and come.

"it does look so natural," remarked dorothy, when the train began to move. "just think, edna, 179in a few days we shall be starting to school again, and be coming this way every day."

"and we shall be seeing uncle justus and aunt elizabeth and all the girls. i wonder if we shall have as good times at the g. r. club as we did last year. we must go to see margaret and nettie very soon, dorothy, for we shall have such heaps to tell them."

"we shall want to tell our own families first."

"oh, of course. i wonder if uncle justus is still with the others on the yacht. i never thought to ask ben." she leaned over to speak to her cousin who was sitting directly in front and learned that mr. horner had left the yacht at portland and had come home by rail from that city.

"the old chap had a good time while he was with us," ben told her, "and i think it limbered him up a lot."

"why, was he stiff from rheumatism like cap'n si?" asked edna innocently.

ben laughed. "no, he was stiff from eating too many ramrods."

edna knew this wasn't true, but she didn't ask any more questions just then. the train was nearing the familiar station where they were to get off. she wondered if celia and the boys, or celia and agnes would be there to meet them. she thought it very likely, as the family must know they would arrive about this time.

but as the train moved off there was no sign of any of their friends. "they didn't come after all," said edna to dorothy. "i wonder if they know ben is with us?"

"why, how could they know. did you tell them on the post-card you wrote from boston, or the one you sent celia from concord?"

"no. did you say anything about it?"

"not a word."

"then that will be a sort of surprise, for even if they expect us they won't expect ben."

it was not a very long walk from the station to the home of either little girl, though it had appeared long enough to edna one evening the winter before when she had been caught in a snow-storm.

"i won't stop," said dorothy, when they had reached edna's gate. "i can scarcely wait to see mother."

"i feel just that way," said edna. "will you come over this evening?"

"maybe. i can't promise, for i shall hate to leave them all. you come over."

"but i shan't want to leave them all either. i reckon we'd better wait till to-morrow."

"all right. good-bye till then." and dorothy started off at a run while edna and ben turned in at the gate.

how quiet it seemed! no one was on the porch, and the sound of their voices did not bring anyone down from upstairs. "i wonder where they all are. i'll go up very softly and s'prise them," whispered edna to ben, "and in a little while you come up and have another s'prise." ben nodded understandingly and edna crept softly up the stairs. there was no sound of voices anywhere. "they must all be asleep," the child murmured, but as it was just about lunch time, that seemed to be rather an unusual state of things. she went from room to room. not a soul was to be seen.

"that is the funniest thing," said edna disappointedly. "i wonder where in the world everybody can be. surely they could not be hiding," but to make sure she looked in closets and even under the beds, then she went slowly downstairs to ben.

"there isn't a soul anywhere," she told him. "oh, ben, i am so dreadfully disappointed. what do you suppose has become of everybody?"

"can't say, my dear. have you interviewed the cook? i thought i heard sounds of life in the kitchen."

"why, of course i can ask her. i never thought of that." she flew to the kitchen. "oh, lizzie," she cried, "where is everybody?"

"saints above!" cried lizzie, "and where did ye come from all of a suddint like this?"

"why, we came out on the train!"

"not by yerself?"

"no, dorothy and cousin ben came with me."

"hear to that now. and didn't ye see the mother nor none of thim that's gone to meet ye?"

"why, no! when did they go to meet us?"

"this morning. sure it was your mother that said, 'thim children will be gettin' in fair and airly and i'll just be goin' in to misther ramsey's office and meet thim when they git there and bring thim right along with me.' thin miss ceely speaks up and says, 'i'll be goin,' too.'"

"but we didn't go to mr. ramsey's office. we left him in new york and cousin ben barker brought us on from there."

"did ye ever hear the likes of that now? she'll be as disappinted as yerself when she gets there and doesn't find ye."

"where are the boys?"

"they're off too. when they learns that their mother was going to town they says we'll go to one of the neighbors, i disremember which one it was, but they says they won't be back to lunch, bein' as they don't like to ate without the ithers. have ye had any lunch yerself, child?"

"no, and neither has cousin ben."

"then, jest you kape quiet and i'll have ye a bite in three shakes. run along in and tell mr. barker 183not to be oneasy, that he shall have something right away."

edna returned to ben with her tale of cross purposes. "do you suppose mother will be worried when she gets to mr. ramsey's office and finds we haven't come?"

"it is possible she might be. i reckon i'd better telephone in and tell them that we have arrived and if mrs. conway comes to tell her we are here. i'll call up your father, too."

"oh, that will be the very best thing to do."

but ben learned that mrs. conway had been to mr. ramsey's office, and not finding her daughter had gone at once to her husband's office. from this latter point it was learned that mr. and mrs. conway and their daughter had just gone out to lunch. "haven't been gone five minutes," ben was told. "say to mr. conway when he comes in that his daughter edna is at home," said ben and then he hung up the receiver. "can't get anyone of them," he told edna, "but your father will hear where you are as soon as he gets back. in the meantime we'll have to make the best of it."

they made the best of it by eating the very good lunch which lizzie prepared, and then edna's trunk having arrived she set to work to unpack it, being glad to release virginia from her long confinement. next it seemed a good plan to hunt up her old dolls and introduce them to this lovely new sister.

ben, who had grown tired of waiting for his aunt and cousin, went to the house of one of his friends, and after edna had seen that all her children were in good condition she seated herself at one of the front windows to watch for her mother. it seemed very funny that it should be she who was watching for someone to come instead of someone watching for her. she would not go to dorothy's for fear she should miss her mother and sister, and likewise for the reason that she felt it would be a very flat report she would have to make to dorothy of her homecoming.

she sat for what seemed a long time, but at last her patience was rewarded by seeing a group of four coming up the road, and as they drew near she saw that it was not only her own mother and sister, but dorothy's likewise who had gone to town to meet the travelers.

she could hardly wait to get down stairs, and she heard celia's surprised voice say, "why there she is now," and in another minute she was in her mother's arms.

"why, you little rogue," cried mrs. conway, when the hugging and kissing had ceased. "you have certainly stolen a march on us all. how did you get here?"

"is dorothy with you?" asked mrs. evans anxiously.

"she isn't here with me, but she is at home," edna made reply.

"oh, then, we must hurry along," said mrs. evans, and without waiting to hear more particulars she and her daughter agnes hastened away.

then mrs. conway sat down and gathered edna to her. "it is so nice to have my baby again," she said. "i don't believe i can ever consent to let her stay so long away another time. now tell me all about it. how did you happen to get here so early and why didn't i find you at mr. ramsey's office as i expected?"

"did you expect to find us there?"

"why, certainly, mrs. ramsey wrote that you would come back with her husband, and that you would arrive at about noon, so naturally i didn't expect mr. ramsey to bring you all the way out here, besides his clerks told me that he had not returned, but had telephoned from new york that he would arrive this evening. so of course i thought you would not get here till then."

"and were you disappointed?"

"oh, i was indeed; but you haven't told me how you did get here."

"ben brought us."

"ben? where is he?"

"oh, he was around a little while ago, but i reckon he got tired of waiting and went off somewhere; he will be back after a while."

186"but i don't understand yet. where did you come across ben?"

"in boston at the old north church; he was going in just as we were going out, and he stayed with us the rest of the time and we all came on together; then when mr. ramsey found that ben could come with us he said he thought he might as well stay in new york and attend to some business and let us come on. ben was going to telephone, but it was just as well he didn't."

"it is all very clear now, and i can see that no one was to blame, for of course no one knew that we were going to meet you."

"but, oh, mother, it is so good to have you again," said edna, giving her mother another squeeze. "i haven't kissed sister half enough either." there was another season of hugging and kissing, and then all went upstairs that edna might show her new doll and present the little gifts she had bought at the bazar. then ben came in and there were more explanations, and next the boys came rushing upstairs to give boisterous bearlike hugs and to tell edna she looked fine as silk, and so the hours went on till it was time for mr. conway to come and that gave a new excitement and questioning and explaining.

after all had been smoothed out mr. conway made the remark, "i saw uncle justus this afternoon. he came into the office to ask if edna had arrived. he certainly is fond of the child."

then edna told of how uncle justus gave up the sailing party on her account and of how gentle and kind he was.

"gee!" cried charlie, "i should think you'd rather he would have gone." for uncle justus had never shown the boys his gentler side and they stood in great awe of him, scuttling out of sight whenever they saw him coming.

everyone smiled at charlie's speech, but edna said gravely, "i loved to have him stay. he took me in his lap and rocked me and we had a lovely time."

charlie could scarcely believe this, but he said nothing and the talk went on to other things. edna and ben were the center of interest that evening, for when edna was not telling something that went on at ramsey's, ben was relating some of his yachting experiences. he would leave for his own home the next day, but would return later to take up his studies at college, and, as last year, to spend the winter with his aunt and cousins.

it seemed warm and murky after the sharp fresh from the sea, and edna, for all her excitement, was ready for bed early. just as she was going upstairs the telephone rang, and celia answered. "someone for you, edna," she said, and edna went to the 'phone.

"hallo, edna," came dorothy's familiar voice "i couldn't go to sleep without saying good-night 188to you. i thought i could but i couldn't. are you all right?"

"yes. are you? wasn't it funny that we didn't find anyone home when we got here. why didn't you come over?"

"why didn't you?" then each heard a little giggle, for the same reason was in the mind of each.

"well, good-night. i kind of miss you, edna," came dorothy's final words.

"and i kind of miss you. good-night."

there was no sound of murmuring waves on the beach, no jennie in the next room, and no dorothy as bed-fellow, but instead there was the murmur of leaves making a pleasant song, there was celia playing softly on the piano, and best of all there was mother very near; so edna turned over with a sigh of content, glad that she was in her own home.