The morning train brought a bevy of pale-faced, joyless-looking waifs.
At first they were stiff and shy, but under the vigorous leadership of Nan, Ethelwyn, and Beth, they were soon organized into a Rough Riders Company, and slid down the banisters, and shot out into the playground with shrill yells of delight.
Dick was general, for he was not yet strong enough to run, so he sat in his wheel-chair, and directed the others.
"We made him general, for generals never have anything to do but boss others; they are never killed or anything," explained Nan.
A doctor from the hospital had sent down a wagon and goat team. There were bicycles and a hobby-horse, and boats safely fastened; so they rode, ran, trotted, or sat in the boats, all the happy day.
Two things were almost forgotten in all the excitement. One was, that this was Ethelwyn's birthday, and the other, that they had to go away the next day.
In the evening, however, there was a birthday cake, with eight candles on it. Then they had the fun of opening the box from Japan.
There was a whole family of quaint dolls for Elizabeth, labeled by Dorothy's husband, "Heathen dolls: never baptized."
"Nor never will be, by Nan," said Elizabeth, fondly hugging them to her, and fixing guilty Nan with a steadfast glance.
There was the cunningest watch for Ethelwyn about the size of a quarter of a dollar.