"Mr. Kirby sent the box, but I don't see how he could get our pin," puzzled Fred.
"Why, Son, he had that piece made to order," Mr. Williamson explained. "I must say, he has gone to a great deal of trouble to give you pleasure. But I think he would feel repaid if he saw this crowd."
"Well, it was great," said Albert Holmes heartily. "I never saw anything like that. I didn't know you could have fireworks made to order. Good-night, everybody."
The three households were early astir the next morning. There was breakfast to get—and eat—doors to be locked, last minute reminders given to Dora, the maid in the Larue house who was to keep it open for the three fathers who would have to spend some part of each week in River Bend. There were messages and keys and plants and canary birds to be distributed around among the neighbors—who, by the way, all came out to see the two cars start—and finally, just as Ward had declared that he knew they would be in exactly the same place the next day, everything was pronounced in readiness.
"Wait one minute, till I call the roll," said Mr. Williamson. "Polly, Artie, Jess, Ward, Margy and Fred—they seem to be present and accounted for. All right, Mother?"
The children were to go in Mr. Williamson's car and Mr. Larue was to drive the grown-ups. This had been Mr. Marley's plan and, as he pointed out, the advantages were obvious. He didn't think, he said, that grown-up talk as a rule interested the youngsters, and, for his part, he liked to talk without being interrupted with endless questions.
"Of course, Tom, it is rather hard on you," said Mr. Marley, as he swung Artie into the car.
"I am glad to say I know when I am well off," jolly Mr. Williamson informed him. "You'll talk about business and complain of the heat and I'll be listening to plans for the best vacation ever. I wouldn't trade places with you for a farm."
"Gee, I'll bet we forgot the lunch!" exclaimed Fred, as the cars rolled down Elm Road. "Mother told me to put the box in and I never thought of it again."