“Don’t worry, Kitsie,” he said.  “I guess we can squeeze out a few Ourdays in the future.  Meantime, enjoy your Maytime while you may.”

And this the Maynard family proceeded to do.  They spent several days in Boston, seeing the sights of the town, and making little excursions to the suburbs and nearby places of interest.

They visited the Public Library, and studied the wonderful paintings there.  They went to the State House, and Faneuil Hall, and Mr. Maynard showed the children so many interesting relics, and taught them so much interesting New England history that Marjorie declared he was quite as good a teacher as Miss Hart.

They spent much time in the Public Gardens and on the Common, for the Maynard children dearly loved to be out of doors, and the flowers in their masses of bloom were enchanting.

Indeed, there was so much of interest to see that Marjorie felt almost sorry when the time came to go to Cambridge for their visit at Mr. and Mrs. Bryant’s.  But her father told her that on their return from Cambridge they could, if they wished, spend a few more days in Boston.

And so, one afternoon, the Maynards drove away from the hotel in their car, and crossed the Charles River to Cambridge.

The Bryants’ home was a fine, large estate not far from Harvard College.

“Another college!” exclaimed Marjorie, as they passed the University Buildings.  “Can we go through this one, Father, as we did through Yale?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Maynard, “and then King can make a choice of which he wants to attend.”

“I think I know already,” returned King; “but I won’t tell you yet, for I may change my mind.”

As they turned in at the gateway of the Bryants’ home they found themselves on a long avenue, bordered with magnificent trees.  This led to the house, and on the veranda their host and hostess stood awaiting them.

“You dear people!  I’m so glad to see you; jump right out, and come in,” exclaimed Mrs. Bryant, as the car stopped.  She was a pretty, vivacious little lady, with cordial hospitality beaming from her gray eyes, and Mr. Bryant, a tall, dark-haired man, was no less enthusiastic in his greetings.

“Hello, Ed,” he cried.  “Mighty glad to see you here!  Hope we can give you a good time!  I know we can make it pleasant for you grownups, but it’s the kiddies I’m thinking about.  I told Ethel she must just devote herself to their entertainment all the time they’re here.  She’s laid in a lot of playthings for them, and they must just consider that the house is their own, and they can do whatever they like from attic to cellar!  How many?  Four?  That’s what I thought.  I don’t know their names, but I’ll learn them later.  Here, jump up, Peter, Susan, Mehitabel,—­or whatever your names are,—­and let me see how you look!”

As jovial Mr. Bryant had been talking, he had lifted the children from the car.  He paid little attention to them individually, seeming to think they were mere infants.