But Dorothy was ready to leave in good season. And when the girls got off the train who should meet them but three smartly-dressed youngsters who proceeded to greet them with wild yells and an Indian war dance performed in public on the station platform.
“Oh, Johnny!” gasped Tavia, capturing her own young brother.
“And Joe and Roger!” cried Dorothy. “How did you boys get here ahead of us? Aren’t you the dears?”
“School closed two days earlier than usual,” explained Joe Dale, who was now almost as tall as Dorothy and a very manly-looking fellow.
“Don’t kiss me so much on the street, sister,” begged Roger, under his breath. “Folks will see.”
“And what if?” demanded Dorothy, laughing.
“They’ll think I’m a little boy yet,” said Roger. “And you know I’m not.
“No. You are no longer Dorothy’s baby,” sighed the girl. “She’s lost her two ‘childers’.”
“Never mind, Sis,” sympathized Joe. “You were awful good to us when we were small. We sha’n’t forget our ‘Little Mum’ right away; shall we, Rogue?”
“Is that what the other boys call him at school?” demanded Dorothy, with her arm still around the little fellow.