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," stammered the little boy. "But I want to go somewhere awfully."
"Couldn't you go, too, Muddie?" suggested Meg.
"Listen, and I'll tell you what we've planned," said Mother Blossom. "Aunt Polly has to go back to-morrow. We've tried to persuade her to stay, but it seems the summer is a very bad time to be away from a farm. But a week from to-morrow, if you are all very good and help me as much as you can, I will take you to Brookside