her's. Cricket and I will be left all forlorn."

"Yes," added Cricket, pulling a long face, "and on Tuesday morning
Eunice and I will be wearing the garbage of woe."

"Whatever you rig yourself up in, Miss Scricket," said Archie, amid the
general laughter, "don't deck yourself out in _garbage_. You'd be a
public nuisance. Flowing 'robes of porcelain,' like the heroine of one
of your stories, would be better."

"You needn't tease me about that, for you know as well as anything that
I meant _percaline_."

But Auntie Jean and grandma had to enjoy this alone, for the boys were
not equal to the fine distinctions of girl's apparel.

As Eunice said, there was a decided scattering of their little party.
Hilda left Saturday afternoon, the boys departed on Monday, for their
camp in the Maine woods, with a party of friends, and on Tuesday Edna
had to go for her usual fortnight's visit to her grandmother Somers, who
always spent July and August at Lake Clear. She was a _very_ old lady,
much older than Grandma Maxwell, and a good deal of an invalid. Edna
much preferred staying with her cousins, but Grandmother Somers was very
devoted to her only little granddaughter, and this was the particular
time when she wanted her. Edna had never been there without her mother
before, and really dreaded it. She had urged taking her cousins with
her, but Auntie Jean knew this would be altogether too much
responsibility for so old a lady to have, since she herself could not
leave Marbury.

"I hate to go like poison," sighed Edna to Eunice, as they strolled up
and down the station platform, while waiting for the train. "I wish I
could stay here. I wish grandma wasn't so fond of me. I wish you could
come, too. I wish the two weeks were over. I wish--"

"Toot-to-toot!" whistled the approaching train.

"Horrid old thing! I wish it would run off the track! Wish Mrs. Abbott
would forget to start this morning. She isn't here yet. _Do_ you suppose
she's forgotten?" with sudden hopefulness.

Mrs. Abbott was a lady under whose care she was going.

"No such good luck!" murmured Eunice. "There she is now. Write to me
every day, Edna."

"And you'll have time to write some lovely stories for the 'Echo,'"
chirped Cricket, encouragingly.

"Yes, I will, and be glad too. It will be something to do. Think of my
saying I'd be glad to write stories! Yes, mamma--good-by, everybody,"
and with hugs and kisses all around, Edna was put on the train and was
o