will. You eat all you want--I never want to taste one of those
apples again!"

Twaddles stopped trying to tickle Bobby, and Meg squeezed Dot's
hand excitedly. Poor Mr. Harley!

"Then--then you haven't heard about your little boys?" asked Bobby
hesitatingly.

"Not a word," groaned Mr. Harley. "It's as though the earth had
opened and swallowed 'em. I can't, for the life of me, figure out
where they could have gone. Sometimes I get to thinking they're
here, and I can't rest till I get a boat and row over. One night I
got up at one o'clock and rowed here; but Lou and the boys were
just as far away as ever."

The rain was coming more gently now, and the heaviest clouds had
passed over the island. Mr. Harley lifted the oilcloth flap, and
the four little Blossoms felt a refreshing breeze sweep in upon
them.

"We can start in a minute or so," announced Mr. Harley, opening
the umbrellas.

A few minutes later they started in a fine drizzle of rain. That,
however, soon stopped and the sun came out, and by the time they
had reached the bungalow, to find Father Blossom just coming up
from the wharf and Mother Blossom, not a bit frightened by the
storm, on the porch, the only trace of the thunderstorm was the
wet grass and the dripping eaves of the pretty bungalow.