May swept into June and June was nearly gone when one morning
Father Blossom announced that he wanted to take Mother Blossom
over to Greenpier in the rowboat and that he hoped the children
could persuade her that they would be all right if left to
themselves for a little while.

"I don't think we'll be gone more than two or three hours," said
Father Blossom seriously; "and while I don't suppose this day
means anything to you, it does mean a good deal to Mother and to
me. And if you children will take care of each other, we'll be
back before you have time to miss us."

"I know what day it is," Meg cried proudly. "It's the day you and
Mother were married!"

She remembered from the last June, and Mother Blossom had not
thought any of the children would remember.

"I do hope they will be all right, Ralph," she said a little
anxiously, as Father Blossom handed her into the rowboat and took
the oars and the four little Blossoms stood on the wharf and waved
to them.

"Of course they will be all right," Father Blossom asserted
sturdily.

"Daddy, oh, Daddy!" called Bobby after the boat, "may we have your
field glasses?"