BEGINNING THE JOURNEY
"There's Tim Roon! Wave to him, Bobby," cried Meg.
"Doesn't Marion Green look funny before she knows you?" commented
Dot.
The car with Mother and Father Blossom and the four little
Blossoms and their suitcases and rugs and shawls and long and
short coats, had whirled past Marion Green so rapidly that she had
not guessed who the people were until they were almost around the
corner, though she waved to them in answer to their call.
For the time at last had come to start for Apple Tree Island, and
this morning the Blossoms were actually on their way. Norah's
sister had come to stay with her and Annabel Lee, so Mother
Blossom had been spared the work and trouble of closing the house.
Meg and Bobby had been promised that they could go into a higher
grade in the fall, because of their good records for the term.
Dot's new dresses were all finished; and Twaddles had wheedled his
father into allowing him to take along an empty bird-cage which
took up a great deal of room and was utterly useless. The Blossoms
had no bird, and, as Bobby pointed out to Twaddles, he would not
be able to catch a bird if he tried, and if he did catch one, said
Bobby, it would be against the law for him to keep it. He would
have to let it go as he had the robin. But Twaddles was firm in
his resolve to carry the empty cage.
"Miss Florence's canary bird died," he explained to Father
Blossom. "And it makes her cry to see the cage; so she gave it to
me. I think it is very nice and you never can tell when it will be
useful!"
It was over seventy miles to Apple Tree Island from Oak Hill,
quite too long a trip for the children to make without a break.
This was partly the reason Father Blossom planned to stop at
Brookside Farm. The real reason, of course, was Aunt Polly.
"When do we go on the boat?" asked Dot, soon after they had left
Oak Hill and were running smoothly along the State highway which
the interurban trolley line followed for some distance. Dot
remembered the trip on the boat to Aunt Polly's, and she had
reason to, as you will recall if you have read of that memorable
visit.
"We don't go on the boat," answered Mother Blossom. "We go as far
as Little Havre, at the lower end of Lake Tobago, where we took
the boat, and then we branch off and follow the lake shore road
that brings us straight to Brookside Farm and Aunt Polly."
"I dropped my cage," announced Twaddles conversationally.
Of course there was nothing to do but stop the car and let him get
out and run back for it. Father Blossom was a skillful driver now
and there was no danger that the steering wheel would play him
strange tricks.
Presently it was lunch time, and as Father and Mother Blossom had
foreseen that traveling in the balmy Spring air and sunshine might
sharpen appetites, they had arranged to have a picnic under the
largest and shadiest tree that could be found. How glad the four
little Blossoms were to get out of the car and run about on the
grass, and how good Norah's sandwiches did taste! There was milk
for the children, and coffee for Father and Mother, and after the
meal was finished, Father Blossom showed the children how to bury
the papers and waste so that the pretty meadow spot might not be
spoiled for the next picnic party.
"Where are we going to have supper?" speculated Dot, as she
snuggled into the car beside Mother Blossom. Dot was a great girl
to consider the future.
"Can't you guess?" teased Mother Blossom.
"I know!" cried Meg. "Aunt Polly's."
Dot and Twaddles enjoyed a little nap that sunny afternoon, but
Meg and Bobby were wide awake every instant. When they came to
Little Havre the twins awoke and sat up, a bit heavy-eyed, but
inclined to be resentful that they had missed anything at all.
"There's the wharf!" shouted Twaddles. "'Member the organ-grinder
man, Dot? And there's the restaurant where you spilled the milk on
your dress."
"I want to get a few directions," said Father Blossom, running the
car close to the curb under a drooping willow tree. "Don't get
out, any one, for I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the real-estate office on the corner, and the
four little Blossoms amused themselves by watching the people
hurrying down to make the afternoon boat.
"We'll beat them, won't we, Mother?" asked Meg. "And this time
Aunt Polly won't have to come to meet us."
Father Blossom came hurrying back and climbed into his seat.
"I'm glad I asked," he told Mother Blossom. "They're repairing a
stretch of the lake shore road and we'll have to make a short
detour. It won't add more than half an hour to our running time."
They moved forward slowly, for the narrow streets of the little
town observed no traffic rules, and boat passengers, baby
carriages, horses, jitneys and automobiles had to find their way
about as best they could, and then, when they reached the open
road, Father Blossom allowed his car to gather more speed.
"Isn't the lake pretty!" said Meg, as they rounded a curve and saw
the water shining through the screen of trees. "What do you
suppose they are doing in that funny boat?"
"Fishing, aren't they, Daddy?" Bobby asked. "I hope I can go
fishing. Palmer Davis went with his father twice last year."
"I'll take you," Father Blossom promised.
"There's a man walking," Dot announced suddenly.
Before any one could stop him, Twaddles had mounted his seat, his
precious cage under his arm.
"Where?" he demanded.
Then he lost his balance and the cage shot over the side of the
car.
"Oh, dear," sighed Twaddles. "I didn't mean to drop it, Daddy.
Honestly, it slipped."
Father Blossom looked rather grim, for his patience with the
useless cage was sorely tried.
"I'll get it," shouted the solitary walker, who had turned on
hearing the car and now ran back toward the Blossoms.
He was a pleasant-faced man, rather shabbily dressed, with a soft
felt hat pulled well down over honest gray eyes. He handed the
cage up to Twaddles smiling and revealing a set of square, even
white teeth. Father Blossom started as the light fell clearly
across the man's face.
"Dick Harley!" he ejaculated. "Where did you drop from?"
The man pushed his hat back and his smile changed to a slow,
sheepish grin. His hair was quite gray at the temples and Meg
privately decided that he must be old.
"Well, well, Mr. Blossom!" he exclaimed, plainly pleased. "You're
the last person I ever expected to meet right here. This your
family?"
"Get in, if you're going our way," said Father Blossom cordially.
"Margaret, you remember Dick Harley?"
Mother Blossom held out her hand.
"Of course I do, though it has been several years since we've seen
each other," she said pleasantly. "Oh, there's plenty of room, Mr.
Harley. You sit with Mr. Blossom and I'll take Dot on my lap."
Dot was passed over the back seat, and Mr. Harley sat in the front
seat with Twaddles between him and Father Blossom.
"This your family?" he repeated. "Which is the little feller I
used to hold in my lap?"
"That was Bobby," smiled Mother Blossom. "He's seven years old
now. This is Meg, and the two youngsters are our twins, Twaddles
and Dot. We're going to Apple Tree Island. I have never been back
since--"
She stopped, afraid that perhaps she had recalled painful memories
to Mr. Harley. But his attractive smile slowly overspread his face
again.
"That so?" he said with interest. "I haven't been there myself in
quite a spell. I expect the boys have grown out of sight. I'm on
my way now to see the wife and kids."
The Blossom family remained perfectly silent. What could they say?