"I'll signal," said Douglas, his eyes on the off-coming passengers; but he had no need, for there was no Will Edson and no Will Hammond aboard. "Missed the train," decided Douglas, a shadow on his usually happy face. "Let's see if there's a telegram. Good! there is," as the operator handed him an envelope. Both read it, and each looked blankly at the other. "Well, I never thought of their _not coming_." "A perfect fizzle," said Hugh, pocketing the bombshells with a frown of disappointment. "The whole day--just as I told you." "We may as well go home"--in Douglas's voice, but without its usual ring, as they slowly left the waiting-room. "We mustn't let the weather get the best of us," said Douglas, as they reached home. "We can at least give the others a good time." So they went up stairs, and played nine-pins with the boys, and were targets for their torpedoes, until the attic rang with merry shouts. "The little ones are having quite a day, after all," thought Mrs. Oliver, a pleased smile on her face, "and Bridget at last has that long-promised _morning out_." Another disappointment came with dinner--a dispatch from Mr. Oliver, stating that he was called on urgent business out of Boston, and preferred the boys did not come into town alone. "That caps the climax," said Hugh, abruptly leaving the table. "And it's clearing up, too. I should think papa might take one holiday in the year for a change." The boys had their heads together after dinner. Hugh had made up his mind to accept the situation; indeed, he had done more than that in going on with the train of thought that Douglas's unselfish suggestions of the morning had opened to him. "Why, it's a splendid idea, Hugh," Douglas was saying. "Maggie will get us cloths and water, and we'll lock the library doors." "They're fixin' the magic lantern," said the twins, as the children stood three or four deep outside the door. "P'r'aps tabberlows," ventured little Edith, remembering her success at the Child's Hospital benefit, and determining to stay within call all afternoon. "Listen," advised the twins. "Shakspeare here," they heard in Hugh's voice, "and Dickens there. That's just exactly as they were." "It's tabberlows," sobbed tired Edith on nurse's shoulder, as they all went up for an afternoon nap. "Yes," said the twins, as they toiled up the stairs after her. "We remember that very one." It was about four o'clock when Mrs. Oliver came to the door. "What is going on?" she inquired. "Can not you let me in? I've some news for you." "We're just about through," they called, and a moment later opened the door. The mother's face expressed just the surprise and pleasure the boys had looked for.