But the plans that Martine and her mother made were not destined to be carried out--at least, during this particular vacation. For a couple of days before school closed an invitation came from Mrs. Danforth, urging Martine to spend a week at Plymouth. Immediately New York lost all its attractiveness for Martine. To visit Plymouth was her one desire. "It will be delightful, Puritan Prissie"--even now she could not resist her love of teasing--"to see the place where you were 'raised,' as they say down South. I wonder if there's something in the air to make Plymouth people different from others. To be sure, you are the only one I've ever seen." "Am I so very different from other people?" Priscilla spoke as if not altogether pleased with Martine's words. "Not too different--only you are fearfully conscientious, and you fuss too much over little things, and you know how to economize--which I wish I did. But for all that, you are not half bad, and your mother is perfectly lovely to invite a girl she has never seen to spend a week with her. You must have given a good account of me." "Of course, Martine, and she has heard of you from others--if only you wouldn't make fun of everything." "I won't, I promise you I won't." Martine looked keenly at her friend, wondering if she really feared that she would be so thoughtless. "I suppose I was rather mean last summer," she reflected, "and it's natural, perhaps, for Priscilla to lack confidence in me." When they were ready to start Martine was somewhat disappointed that they could not go to Plymouth by boat. "A train seems so prosaic," she said; "and now when I am going to historic ground, I should like to be able to jump ashore--just as the Pilgrims did." "I didn't suppose you'd take so much interest. Last summer--" "Now, Prissie! After all my efforts this winter, surely you might admit that I have improved. Why, now, I've wholly forgotten that we ever had a French and English question to dispute over. Before we reach Plymouth I'll be as good a Puritan as you." Mrs. Tilworth and Lucian saw the two girls safely on board their train. But from Boston to Plymouth Priscilla and Martine travelled alone. They had so much to talk of that the journey seemed short enough, and Martine was surprised when the conductor called Plymouth. Hardly had Priscilla's foot touched the platform, when a whirlwind of heads and arms seemed to engulf her. "Say, I'm going to ride up in the carriage--" "No, I am!" "What did Aunt Sarah send us?" "Oh, Priscilla, I'm so glad you're home. The yellow cat has four of the cunningest kittens!" "Yes, and we've had to muzzle Carlo, because a mad dog from Kingston ran through town the other day." "There, there," and Priscilla disentangled herself from the arms of the children. "Martine, these are my little brothers and sister. There are only three of them--though they sound like a regiment. Children, this is my great friend, Martine Stratford."