Dot,
it's a water pistol!"

"Well, I don't think that's a good thing to give you," pronounced Meg
decisively. "You'll be hitting Dot in the eye."

"Won't, neither," retorted Twaddles, feeling unjustly accused. "Aunt
Polly asked me what I wanted most last time she was here and I told
her; and she said if I'd promise not to shoot at people, she'd get me
one. So there!"

Bobby, the peace-maker, proposed that they all go in and show their
presents to Norah, and he helped Meg carry Philip downstairs because
she was sure the trip would hurt his leg. Bobby was never in too much
of a hurry to do what Meg wanted him to do.

In the afternoon, after lunch, all the Blossoms went for a long ride
in the car, stopping at the foundry office on the way home to pick up
Father Blossom. Still nothing was said about the children going home
with Aunt Polly.

"Do you suppose Mother will let us?" asked Dot, as Meg was helping her
undress that night. "Maybe she's afraid I will use up my clean
dresses too fast, and Aunt Polly won't have any to put on me. But you
could lend me yours, Meg."

"No, I don't believe that's the reason," said Meg slowly. "I tell you
what I think--I think Mother and Daddy have to plan a lot before they
know whether we can go. But you ought to be more careful with your
dresses, Dot."

The next morning Mother Blossom announced that if the children would
come out on the porch she had something to tell them. There was a
general stampede from the breakfast table--Father Blossom had had an
early breakfast and had gone before the others were down--and Aunt
Polly in the swing and Mother Blossom in a huge rocking-chair were
nearly smothered in a shower of kisses.

"Are we going to Brookside?"

"Are we going home with Aunt Polly?"

"Can I learn to milk a cow?"

"Do you have chickens, Aunt Polly?" Four little voices chorused at
once.

"Dear, dear," chuckled Aunt Polly. "So you've been thinking about
Brookside all this time, have you? And what makes you think your
mother wants to talk about the farm with you?"

Four pairs of eyes fixed their anxious gaze upon Mother Blossom.

"Well, dearies," said Mother Blossom in answer, "Daddy and Aunt Polly
and I have talked this over, and we've come to a decision. It is
impossible for me to get you ready to go home with Aunt Polly
to-morrow."

"Oh, Mother!" mourned Twaddles.

"Would you want to go and leave Mother?" that dear lady asked in
surprise.

"Not--not exactly,