children spend the summer each year with her mother, but it always
saddened her when the time of departure came.

She put her arm around Marjorie, without a word, as the girl came
into the room, for it had been three years since the two had been
parted, and Mrs. Maynard felt a little sad at the thought of
separation.

"Don't look like that, Mother," said Marjorie, "for if you do,
I'll begin to feel weepy, and I won't go at all."

"Oh, yes, you will, Miss Midge," cried her father; "you'll go, and
you'll stay all summer, and you'll have a perfectly beautiful
time. And, then, the first of September I'll come flying up there
to get you, and bring you home, and it'll be all over. Now, such a
short vacation as that isn't worth worrying about, is it?"

"No," put in Kingdon, "and last year when I went there wasn't any
sad good-by."

"That's because you're a boy," said his mother, smiling at him
proudly; "tearful good-bys are only for girls and women."

"Yes," said Mr. Maynard, "they enjoy them, you know. Now, _I_
think it is an occasion of rejoicing that Marjorie is to go to
Grandma's and have a happy, jolly vacation. We can all write
letters to her, and she will write a big budget of a family letter
that we can all enjoy together."

"And Mopsy must wite me a little letter, all for my own sef,"