burst into the room.

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” they shouted together.

“Gee, Biff, just think, tomorrow you’ll be on your way to Rangoon in Burma, to visit Uncle Charlie,” Ted said enviously.

“Wish I could go, too,” Monica chimed in.

“You! Why, you’re a girl,” Ted said derisively.

“Now, no arguments, you two,” Mrs. Brewster said. “Drink your orange juice. I’ll start your eggs.”

“How far from Indianapolis is it to Rangoon?” Monica asked.

“Quite a way. Six or seven thousand miles at least,” Mr. Brewster replied.

“You ever been there, Dad?” Ted asked.

“No. I envy Biff. Rangoon is one of the places in this world I’ve missed so far.”

“And about the only one, Dad, isn’t it?” Biff asked.

“There are a few others,” his father replied. “Maybe if I had started out as young as you are, I’d have made them, too. For a sixteen-year-old, you’ve been about this world of ours quite a bit, me boy-o. Well, I’m all for it.”

“I am too, Dad,” Biff agreed. “Remember the time in Brazil, when we—”

“Hold it!” Mrs. Brewster interrupted, laughing. “Don’t you two get started talking about your adventures. There’s just this one more day before Biff leaves, and my goodness, what a lot has to be done!”

Biff smiled. He knew there was hardly anything left to be done. His mother had finished packing for him the day before.

Just as Mrs. Brewster brought the twins their eggs, the telephone rang. Monica started to get up. She answered every phone call.

“You sit still and eat those eggs while they’re hot, young lady. I’ll take the call,” Mrs. Brewster said.

Biff and his father saw a puzzled look come over her face as she answered the telephone.

“Yes? I understand. This morning? All right, I’ll tell them.”

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