“We’re coming home on Friday,” both letters read alike, “to plant the bulbs, and we’ll expect your help after school, and all day Saturday, if necessary; and we’ll hope—just hope—for some play house cooking.”
“Isn’t it comical for them to say just the same thing!” exclaimed Eleanor.
“Won’t we have fun!” Mary Frances answered. “Let’s see, this is Wednesday. I wonder if Billy wrote to Mother.” And away they flew to find out.
“Mother, you’ve known for several days, I just believe,” declared Mary Frances, whereat her mother laughed and confessed that she had known, but that it was her turn to keep a surprise in store for them. Then all three fell to making plans for the visit.
“We’ll give a dinner in the play house,” decided Mary Frances, “and invite you and Father.”
“Oh, you children would have more pleasure without grown-ups,” protested her mother.
“Not a bit of fun without our kind of ‘grown-ups,’ you mean,” Mary Frances contradicted lovingly. “Doesn’t she, Eleanor?”
“Yes, indeed!” Eleanor answered emphatically.