It did.
On the last morning that Grandpa and Grandma were there, Daddy said at the breakfast table—quite suddenly, as if he had just thought of it— "Mother, suppose we let the children choose for themselves. You and I will go to the lake next summer, and catch the big fish; but if they would be happier on the old farm, why—"
"Oo-oo-ooh!" cried Joyce delightedly. "Don, you and I may go to Grandpa's house next summer, if we like!"
"How do you know?" said Don rather crossly. "Daddy hasn't said that we could."
"Why, he said it just now—didn't you, Daddy?"
"Not exactly; but that's what I was going to say," said Daddy, smiling into Joyce's shining eyes.
After that, it wasn't a bit hard to tell Grandpa and Grandma good-by. "Only until next summer," whispered Joyce when she kissed Grandma for the last time.
Long months followed, but June came at last. One happy day the children came home and threw their books down on the table; and Don raced through the house singing the last song he had learned at school:
"School is done! school is done!
Toss up caps and have a run!"
"And now," said Mother that night, "we must begin to get ready for our trips. Are you sure, children, that you still want to go to Grandma's?"