The next day proved to be the very loveliest day of the whole Spring.
The sun incessantly winked an invitation for the twins to come out and play. The blue sky smiled the same plea, and the soft breeze whispered it again and again.
The flowers nodded at them as they looked out of the windows, and the trees spread their branches, as in a welcoming embrace.
The birds twittered, “Come, come!” and, though too far away to be heard, Dolly knew, her pet chicken was peeping the same words.
But worst of all was to see Pat watering their own flower-beds,—their pansies and daffodils that had never drank from any hands save the twins’ own!
This sight nearly made the tears come, but Dick said bravely:
“We must make the best of it, Dollums. There’s no use of getting all weepy-waily when it won’t do any good.”
“No, but Dick, don’t you s’pose she’d just let us go and water our plants,—if we came right back?”
“Sha’n’t ask her; and don’t you ask that, either. Now we’ll both do our practising,—I guess I’ll practise another hour while you’re doing your old sewing,—and then let’s go up in the attic to play.”
Dolly brightened a little. “All right; we’ve always been going to fish around up there, and we never had a good chance before.”