“I could not travel in comfort without Miss Josephine,” she said with much dignity, as she seated herself in the parlor, with her treasures around her.  “I could not stir a step without her.”

Mabel brought her Maltese kitten, and her Spitz dog, and tied a cherry ribbon round Fido’s neck, and a blue one round Queenie’s.

“Now I am ready to go!” she said.

As for Johnnie, he had so large a collection of must-haves, and can’t-do-withouts, that he went to ask his father’s advice.  Mr. Evans came into the parlor, and laughed as he looked at his little girls, and their anxious faces.

“My dears,” he said, “we are not to be off for a week yet, and when we start we cannot carry much baggage.  The old Romans called baggage impedimenta, because it hindered them on their way; and that is just what it is, a hinderance.  We must leave all our treasures at home.”

“Even Queenie and Fido?  They will break their hearts,” said Mabel.

“Even Miss Josephine?” said Edith.  “She will pale away and die without me!”

“If I could take my wheelbarrow and my box of tools, I would be satisfied,” exclaimed Johnnie.

“Now, children,” Mr. Evans explained, “you are going to see a good many new things; and if you leave your property at home, it will be safe, and will seem new and delightful when you get back.  Fido and Queenie will go to Aunt Catharine’s and pay a visit too.”

“I don’t believe the week will ever come to an end,” sighed Edith, and she repeated the sigh a dozen times that busy week.  But it did.  Miss Simms cut and basted and fitted.  Friends came to help.  The furniture was covered.  The house was securely fastened.  At last they all went on board the Richmond steamer, on which they spent two very sea-sick nights and a day.  After that it stopped at the Norfolk wharf.  It lay there some hours, but before it started again, Aunt Maria came with a great roomy carriage, and took away the children.  At the last moment grandma had decided not to go, so the brother and sisters felt rather forlorn when they went away with the strange auntie.

“Good-by, mamma!” cried three brave little voices, however, and three handkerchiefs were waved, as they saw mamma smiling back cheerfully to them from the deck of the “Old Dominion.”

“In five weeks we’ll see her again.  It seems like for ever,” said Edith to Johnnie.

“Five weeks,” said Aunt Maria, “is a very short while, when people are having a really happy time.  Just make up your minds to make each other as happy as you can, my dears; you are going to see my family pretty soon.”

“There’s the thea-thickness going back,” little Mabel murmured.

“Never cross a bridge till you come to it, Mabel.  It’s a poor way to fret over troubles that are five weeks off.  I have known people who were very sea-sick coming, and not in the least so going back.  It may be that way with you, little one; so look on the bright side.”