"Now read," she said, as she cuddled down into the corner of the couch.

Janet opened the letter and began,

"Dearest of Twins (she read):

"I am in the infirmary, pretending to have a cold but don't waste time worrying about me for it's all a fake to get a chance to breathe, which is something that I find you are not supposed to do at Hilltop (isn't that a precious name for a school? I like it better every time I think of it), except when you sleep.

"I know you both think me a heartless wretch for not having written oftener, but honestly I haven't time. It is go, go, go, from morning till night. I used to think we kept pretty busy but we were tortoises compared to the rate here. Up every morning at seven, lessons begin at nine, lunch is at twelve-thirty; more lessons until two, and then the rest of the day is yours. No study hours unless you are reported by some teacher for not being prepared, then the wrath of the gods descends upon your head and you are packed off to Assembly Hall and made to work for two hours a day for a whole week. You may better believe that we study to keep our blessed privilege.

"The girls have a joke on me, and they tease all the time. I said Aunt Jane's poll parrot just once. That was enough! They pretend now that there is such a bird and that I keep him hidden in my room. They ask after his health morning, noon and night, and ask me quite seriously to consult him. Even the teachers do it. I nearly died in history class when Miss Jenks, a love and nothing but a girl, just out of college, asked me the date of the Battle of Hastings, I couldn't remember and she looked at me so impishly and said, 'Better ask Aunt Jane's poll parrot.' Imagine Ducky Lucky doing such a thing.

"I haven't told you one thing that I wanted to and this letter is all one grand jumble, but I'll try to do better next time.

"You simply must come next year; must, must, must. I've written Mother to persuade your aunt, and she has promised to try.

"Write soon and forgive blots. One of the girls is reading over my shoulder and she says to blame the blots on Aunt Jane's poll parrot, and to be sure and come next year.

"Oceans of love,

"SALLY."

Janet folded up the letter and laughed softly.

"Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?"

Phyllis stop trying to produce Akbar's image in putty long enough to reply.

"I should say it does. No study hours! What bliss! Auntie Mogs simply has to let us go!" she exclaimed. "And what is better still, no Ducky Lucky! I wish I knew if our papers were corrected or not."

She would have been more than surprised had she known what was going on at that very moment.

Miss Baxter was busy correcting papers. She finished Janet's and marked it with a big red B; then the fates stepped in. Miss Baxter was called to the telephone. When she returned to her desk the paper next for correction happened to be Phyllis's. Miss Baxter saw the name and frowned; she always frowned when she thought of the twins.

"Funny," she said to herself. "I thought I corrected this paper. So I did and I decided to give it a B. The telephone confused me."

With her usual precision she marked a B on the right-hand corner of the paper and pushed it from her.

Phyllis gazed at it the next morning in joyful surprise. Had she been any one but Phyllis she would have at least glanced at her mistakes, but being Phyllis, she accepted her good luck with joy and threw the paper into the waste-paper basket. Not seeing Miss Baxter's mistake, she could not draw her attention to it.

So the Page twins tricked Miss Baxter once again, and the joke was no less amusing because of their ignorance.



CHAPTER XX

THE FAREWELL PARTY

Spring made an early appearance in New York and decked itself more charmingly than ever. The trees showed tiny green buds, and the grass freshened under the warm showers, almost as you looked.

Jonquils and crocuses appeared to welcome the fat robins that returned to their nests, and all Nature hummed and fluttered in its eager preparations.

Janet and Phyllis were busy planning a farewell party, as they sat in the sunshine in the park one Sunday morning.

"If we could only think of something different to do," Phyllis wailed. "I am so tired of dances and skating parties and afternoon teas. We've been going to them all winter."

"I know," Janet agreed, "but what else is there to do?"

"Nothing, I suppose," Phyllis replied. "So which shall it be?"

"I don't know,"—Janet refused to decide. "Let's ask Auntie Mogs."

"No, let's make up our own minds," Phyllis insisted. "If we were only at Old Chester we could have a picnic."

"But there'd be no one to go to it but Harry Waters and the Blakes," Janet reminded her.

"That's right, I forgot Peter and Jack are at school; but anyhow a picnic would be fun."

"Where could you have one around here?" Janet demanded, practical as ever.

Phyllis looked at her disapprovingly.

"Jan, you're a wet blanket!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not. I'm only trying to be sensible."

"Well, stop; it's too gorgeous a day to be anything but happy, so don't let's bother about that stupid party any more."

"What party was ever stupid, may I ask?" a voice inquired from above them, and they looked up to see Mr. Keith.

They made room for him on the bench, and he sat down between them.

"Tell me about the stupid party," he invited.

"It isn't one really," Janet explained; "it's just going to be."

"We're going to give it," Phyllis continued, "and it's going to be stupid because we can't think of anything to do that hasn't been done a million times before."

Mr. Keith's eyes twinkled, but he answered very gravely:

"I see."

"A picnic would be wonderful this weather, but there's no place to have a picnic in the city," Phyllis went on dejectedly.

"Quite so," Mr. Keith agreed; "let's all think for two minutes and then see who has an idea."

They thought, and at the end of the two minutes he said,

"Any ideas?"

"Not a one."

"Worse than ever."

Mr. Keith smiled and stood up.

"Then I have a suggestion to make," he said. "When is this party to be?"

"A week from yesterday," Phyllis told him.

"Then don't make any plans until you hear from me. I will think hard all day, and to-morrow sometime I will call you up, and now I must go and find Don. I promised to watch him sail his boat." He lifted his silk hat and walked away, humming a little tune.

"I like him, ever so much," Janet said as she watched him.

"I adore him!" Phyllis exclaimed. "He's a perfect darling, but then he's Don's father, so he'd have to be."

The promised 'phone message did not come until Monday evening after dinner. The girls made up their minds that he had forgotten all about them, and had started new plans.

Phyllis answered the 'phone.

"Am I speaking to the Page twins!" a voice asked.

"Part of them," Phyllis laughed.

"Well, I have a message for them both. They are to be ready to go on a picnic Saturday morning at ten o'clock."

"Oh, but—" gasped Phyllis.

"And in the meantime they are not to worry about their guests. They have all been invited and they have all accepted," the voice went on, "and they are not to worry about food either, for the luncheon has all been attended to." The voice stopped.

"Is that you, Mr. Keith?" Phyllis demanded, but a laughing "good night" was her only answer.

She flew back to the snuggery to tell Janet the news, and they both went down to the library to tell Auntie Mogs. She did not look as surprised as she might have been expected to, but they were too excited to notice that.

"What do you suppose he means?" Phyllis demanded. "Where can we be going?"

"Auntie Mogs, do say something," Janet begged.

"Wait and see,"—Miss Carter laughed, and they had to be content with that.

Saturday dawned clear and warm; the sun beamed and spread his rays to the farthest corner of the sky. It looked as though some one had ordered a day for a picnic, and Dame Nature had done her best to satisfy them.

At ten o'clock the girls heard loud tootings, and Janet, who was putting on her hat, hurried to the window.

"Oh, Phyl, do look; three automobiles full of every girl and boy you ever knew."

They rushed downstairs, and Mr. Keith met them at the door.

"All ready?" he inquired. "Come along, Miss Carter; we will lead the way."

The girls were too excited to answer. They followed their aunt to the waiting cars, where a babble of greetings met them. Mr. Keith helped Miss Carter into the first one, and the girls into the second.

"Go ahead," he called to the chauffeurs, and jumped in after them.

Phyllis could see that Mrs. Vincent was in the last car. She smiled and waved to her.

Daphne and Chuck and Jerry and Howard were in their car, and they squeezed up to make room for Janet and Phyllis. Mr. Keith sat in the front beside the driver.

A buzz of questions and speculations rose from every car, but no one seemed to have the least idea where they were going.

They picked their way carefully through the city streets, but once in the country they flew along. Towns whizzed by, and at last they slowed up for Poughkeepsie, crossed the river on the ferry, and snorted up the hill on the other side.

As they reached the top of a hill and began the descent everybody said "Oooooh," for beneath them and on every side was a veritable fairyland of apple blossoms.

They stopped at an old farmhouse, and all jumped out to find the picnic spread out for them under the apple trees. Chicken, salads, tarts and every kind of fruit covered the white cloth, and the air had whipped their appetites into being. They needed no second invitation but threw themselves on to the ground and did justice to the tempting repast.

After luncheon they wandered about under the trees until it was time to go home.

As each guest passed Mrs. Vincent before they got into the motors, she gave them each a box. They opened them in surprise, that turned quickly to exclamations of delight as they gazed at the contents.

Tiny gold butterflies and enameled wings for the girls and stick pins with bumble bees in black and gold for the boys. On the back of each pin was the date and Janet's and Phyllis's initials.

The girls were so excited watching their guests' delight that they forgot to open their own boxes until Daphne reminded them of them.

"I know yours will be different," she said.

They opened them to find butterflies, like the rest, but twice as large. On the back was inscribed, "In memory of the stupid party."

"Oh, Mr. Keith, how are we ever going to thank you!" Janet exclaimed.

"It has been the most beautiful stupid party that ever was," Phyllis added. "Oh, please, please, believe that we are truly grateful."

"Nonsense," laughed Mr. Keith. "You forget I am still heavily in your debt, and to-day has only added to that indebtedness, for I can honestly say I never enjoyed a picnic as much as this in all my life."



CHAPTER XXI

CONCLUSION

Auntie Mogs looked up from her mail at the breakfast table and smiled at Phyllis and Janet as they took their places, one on either side of her.

"Here is something that may interest you," and she held out two letters.

Phyllis took one and Janet the other.

"It's from Tommy; do listen,"—Phyllis almost knocked over the cream pitcher in her excitement.

"Dear family"—(she read)

"I am expecting you on the fourteenth of this month and may the date hurry up and get here. I will meet you at the station, prepared for your luggage and live stock. Don't get lost on the way, please, as this West is rather large and I might have difficulty in finding you.

"The conductor will see that you change at the junction and don't forget that you get out at Quantos.

"My ranch is so clean that it doesn't know itself, and some of my cowboys are laying in a stock of new collars in honor of your arrival. But none of them can compare with the pleasure that I get out of every minute of the day when I think that you will soon be with me.

"Your affectionate nephew and brother,

"TOM."

Janet held up her envelope and shook it. Tickets, yards long it seemed, fell out on to the table cloth.

"We are really going," they said together, and they looked straight into each other's eyes across the table.

Perhaps they saw the joys of the coming summer, mirrored in their brown depths. Who knows?

THE END