"I know!" cried Meg. "Aunt Polly's."

Dot and Twaddles enjoyed a little nap that sunny afternoon, but
Meg and Bobby were wide awake every instant. When they came to
Little Havre the twins awoke and sat up, a bit heavy-eyed, but
inclined to be resentful that they had missed anything at all.

"There's the wharf!" shouted Twaddles. "'Member the organ-grinder
man, Dot? And there's the restaurant where you spilled the milk on
your dress."

"I want to get a few directions," said Father Blossom, running the
car close to the curb under a drooping willow tree. "Don't get
out, any one, for I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the real-estate office on the corner, and the
four little Blossoms amused themselves by watching the people
hurrying down to make the afternoon boat.

"We'll beat them, won't we, Mother?" asked Meg. "And this time
Aunt Polly won't have to come to meet us."

Father Blossom came hurrying back and climbed into his seat.

"I'm glad I asked," he told Mother Blossom. "They're repairing a
stretch of the lake shore road and we'll have to make a short
detour. It won't add more than half an hour to our running time."

They moved forward slowly, for the narrow streets of the little
town observed no traffic rules, and boat passengers, baby