"I won’t forget," called back Mary Jane, and then, much to the surprise of the brakeman who was giving the signal to go ahead, she stepped half down the steps of her car and shouted back to John, "Next time I come I’m going to stay all day and get a lot of eggs—all the eggs you’ve got!" Then she hurried into the car to wave to John out of the window as the train moved away. It was a very dusty morning, as there hadn’t been rain for more than two weeks; so Mrs. Merrill shut the window by which they sat. Mary Jane liked that, for then she had a window sill where she could spread out her precious stones without danger of losing any out of the window. "Now that’s the father stone," she whispered to herself, as she hunted out the biggest stone and put it in the left hand corner of the sill, "and that’s the mother stone," she added as she chose the next biggest, a round white stone that was her favorite, "and this is the big sister stone and this the big brother stone and here’s all the little stones." She pulled them out of her pocket, every one and made a long row of stone children that filled the whole window sill. "I guess I’ll call them Mr. and Mrs. Stone," she laughed softly to herself, and then I’ll name the Stone children. "You’re Patricia," she announced to the biggest stone sister, "and you’re William Stone and you’re Edward and you’re Margaret and you’re Ellen and you’re—you’re—dear me! How in the world do people name their families? I should think it would be hard work! I should think it would be as hard as naming rivers." The thought of rivers made Mary Jane remember that she was thirsty, so, with her mother’s permission, she went up to the front end of the car where the case of paper drinking cups and the water fountain was. The drinking cup case didn’t work very well, and Alice had to come and give her assistance before two cups were dropped out of the slot so that the little girls could get a cool drink. Then Boston was so near that Mary Jane had time only to pick up her Stone family and stow them safely in her pocket—and it was time to get off. There hadn’t been a minute to wonder what she would do—the time just went that quickly. They took a taxi up to their hotel, packed bags with things they would need for over Sunday, ate a bit of lunch and hurried back to the station to catch the train for Rye Beach. "Did you ever see so many pretty flowers!" exclaimed Alice as their train went past station after station made beautiful with flowers—late irises, early roses, bridal wreath and snowballs, to say nothing of the gay geraniums in formal beds along by the tracks. "Wouldn’t you love to have somebody say, ’just pick all you want to, Alice Merrill?’"