There they were also to meet their cousin, Dorothy Minturn, who was
just a year older than Nan.

It was a beautiful morning, the very first day of August, that our
little party started off. Along the Meadow Brook road everybody
called out "Good-by!" for in the small country place all the Bobbseys
were well known, and even those from Lakeport had many friends there.

Nettie Prentice, the one poor child in the immediate neighborhood (she
only lived two farms away from Aunt Sarah), ran out to the wagon as
Uncle Daniel hurried old Bill to the depot.

"Oh, here, Nan!" she called. "Do take these flowers if you can carry
them. They are in wet cotton battin at the stems, and they won't fade
a bit all day," and Nettie offered to Nan a gorgeous bouquet of lovely
pure white, waxy lilies, that grow so many on a stalk and have such a
delicious fragrance. Nettie's house was an old homestead, and there
delicate blooms crowded around the sitting-room window.

Nan let her hatbox down and took the flowers.

"These are lovely, Nettie," she exclaimed; "I'll take them, no matter
how I carry them. Thank you so much, and I hope I'll see you next
summer."

"Yes, do come out again!" Nettie faltered, for she would miss Nan, the
city girl had always been so kind--even lent her one of her own
dresses for the wonderful Fourth of July parade.

"Maybe you will come down to the beach on an excursion," called Nan,