"I am only waiting to hear from Uncle John," Mollie was saying, as she swung lazily back and forth in the couch swing. "The last time I saw him he said that he was almost sure to go north this summer and he told me that as soon as he made definite plans he would let me know." "You told us that two weeks ago," Grace reminded her. "And we haven't heard from him yet." "It does seem to take him a long time to make up his mind," sighed Amy. Betty, who had been trying to read a novel, closed the book and turned to them with a laugh. "Goodness, you all sound doleful," she told them. "It seems to me that we ought to be able to live through it, even if we don't get Wild Rose Lodge for the summer. There are plenty of other things we can do." Mollie turned upon her indignantly. "How you talk, Betty Nelson," she scolded her. "As if we could possibly have as good a time anywhere else as we could at Wild Rose Lodge. Think of being in a real hunting lodge out in the woods away from everybody! Why, it will be a real adventure--" "All right. I surrender--don't shoot," laughed Betty, coming over and perching on the railing beside Mollie. "I admit we should probably have more fun at the lodge than we could anywhere else. I was only trying to look on the bright side of things in case our plans should fall through. Hello--who's this?" "This" proved to be Mollie's little sister Dora, or "Dodo," as she was called by almost everybody. With a sigh of relief, the girls saw that Dodo's twin brother, Paul, was not with her, for together the children were a simply unconquerable pair. The twins had been spoiled by their widowed mother, Mrs. Billette, even before the time when they had been kidnapped and spirited off by a hideous Spaniard. But since their recovery, their joyful mother had indulged them in every way until they had become well nigh unmanageable. Yet in spite of everything, the twins were very lovable, and every one loved them, even those whom they annoyed most. And now as Dodo tore up the street toward them, waving something white in her hand, the girls instinctively glanced about to see what they ought to put out of sight before the cyclone struck them. "Thank goodness, Paul isn't with her," murmured Grace. "Then we would be in for it." "Dodo," cried Mollie as the child started up the walk, "scrape some of that mud off your feet before you come up. You will get Betty's porch all dirty." "Name's Dora--not Dodo," the little girl answered, paying not the slightest heed to Mollie's caution about the mud. "Dodo's a baby's name--don't like it. Got something for you." She stumbled heedlessly up the steps, leaving a trail of mud behind her, and almost breaking her neck in the bargain. "Now just look at Betty's porch," Mollie was beginning in exasperation when Betty laughingly interfered. "Oh, let her alone, Mollie," she coaxed. "The porch was dirty anyway and--what's that you have in your hand, Dodo?"