t up in the cushioned window-seat pensively
watching the rain.

"If it had only waited till to-morrow we should have had time for our
journey; now we can't go till next Saturday. Flora is so disappointed
she would cry if I had not taught her to behave," said Maggie with a
sigh, as she surveyed the doll on her knee in its new summer suit.

"So is Dora. Just see how sweet she looks with her hat and cape on and
her travelling-bag all ready. Couldn't we play travel in the house? It
is such a pity to wait when the children are in such a hurry to go,"
answered Marjory, settling the tiny bag that held Dora's nightcap and
gown as well as the morsels of cake that were to serve for her lunch.

"No," said Maggie decidedly, "we can't do it, because there is no room
for carriages, and boats, and railroads, and hotels, and accidents. It
is a long journey from Minnesota to Maine, and we couldn't get it all
into one room I'm sure."

"I don't think papa would mind our coming into the library, if we didn't
ring the car bells very loud or scream much when the accidents happen,"
said Marjory, who hated to give up the plan they had been cherishing all
the week.

"What is it, little ones? Come and tell me what is the matter," called
Mr. Plum, hearing his name and the magic word "railroad," for he was the
president of one and had his hands full just then.

Down jumped the little girls and ran to perch on either arm of his
chair, pouring out their small tribulations as freely as if he had been
the most sympathizing of mothers.

"We planned to take a long, long journey round the garden with our dolls
to-day, and play go to Maine and see Aunt Maria. You know she asked us,
and we looked out the way on the map and got all ready, and now it rains
and we are dreadfully disappointed," said Maggie, while Marjory sighed
as she looked at the red D. worked on the inch square travelling-bag.

"As you can't go, why not send the dolls to make aunty a visit, and she
will send them back when they get homesick," proposed Mr. Plum, smiling,
as if a sudden idea had popped into his head.

"Really?" cried Maggie.

"How could we?" asked Marjory.

"They could go and come by mail, and tell you all about their adventures
when they got back," said papa.

Both children were speechless for a moment, then as the full splendor of
this proposition dawned upon them they clapped their hands, crying
eagerly:

"We will! we will! Let's do it at once."

"What? w