“No, I’m going to stand up,” went on Betty. “Anyhow, I don’t want to start until Grace comes back. I detest telling a thing over twice.” “If Grace can’t find that box of chocolates she’ll most likely run down to the store for another,” said Amy. “And that means we won’t hear the surprise for ever so long,” said Mollie. “Go on, Bet, tell us, and we’ll retell it to Grace when she comes. That will get rid of your objection,” and Mollie tucked back several locks of her pretty hair that had strayed loose when the vigorous hammock-action took place. “No, I’d rather tell it to you all together,” insisted Betty, with a shake of her head. “It wouldn’t be fair to Grace to tell it to you two first. We’ll wait.” “I’ll go in and ask her to hurry,” ventured Amy. She was always willing to do what she could to promote peace, harmony, and general good feeling. If ever anyone wanted anything done, Amy was generally the first to volunteer. “There’s no great hurry,” said Betty, “though from the way I rushed over here you might think so. But really, it is the grandest thing! Oh, girls, such a time as may be ahead of us this summer!” and she pretended to hug herself in delight. “Betty Nelson, you’ve just got to tell us!” insisted Mollie. “Look out, Amy, I’m going to get up.” Getting up from a hammock—or doing anything vigorous, for that matter—was always a serious business with quick Mollie. She generally warned her friends not to “stand too close.” “Never mind, here comes Grace,” interrupted Amy. “Do sit still, Mollie; it’s too warm to juggle—or is it jiggle?—around so.” “Make it wiggle,” suggested Betty. “Do hurry, Grace,” called Mollie “We can’t hear about the grand surprise until you get here, and we’re both just dying to know what it is.” “I couldn’t find my chocolates,” said Grace, as she strolled gracefully up, making the most of her slender figure. “I just know Will took them. Isn’t he horrid!” “Never mind, did you bring the talcum?” asked Amy. “We can sprinkle it on green apples and pretend it’s fruit juice.” “Don’t you dare suggest such a thing when my little twins come along, as they’re sure to do, sooner or later,” spoke Mollie, referring to her brother and sister—Paul and Dora—or more often “Dodo,” aged four. They were “regular tykes,” whatever that is. Mollie said so, and she ought to know. “If you gave them that idea,” she went on, “we’d have them both in the hospital. However, they’re not likely to come to-day.” “Why not?” asked Betty, for the twins had a habit of appearing most unexpectedly, and in the most out-of-the-way places. “They’re over at Aunt Kittie’s for the day, and I told mamma I shouldn’t mind if she kept them a week.” “Oh, the dears!” murmured Amy. “You wouldn’t say so if you saw how they upset my room yesterday. I like a little peace and quietness,” exclaimed Mollie. “I love Paul and Dodo, but—and she shrugged her shoulders effectively, as only the French can.