However, by Monday morning the wind had died down and the snow had stopped, though the sun refused to shine.

"Sam says it's awful cold," said Norah, bringing in the hot cakes for breakfast. "He's got the walks cleaned off, but maybe the children shouldn't go to school."

"Nonsense!" said Mother Blossom briskly. "Meg and Bobby both have rubber boots and warm mittens and coats. A little cold won't hurt them."

"And sledding after school, Mother?" urged Twaddles. "Dot and I have rubber boots, too."

"And in summer we can't go coasting," said the practical Dot.

"That's so, you can't," laughed Father Blossom, kissing her as he hurried out to the waiting car to go to his office. "Waiting for warm weather for coasting is a pretty poor way to spend one's time."

Meg wore her locket to school, and long before the noon hour every girl had heard about great-great Aunt Dorothy, had tried on the locket, and had wished she had one exactly like it.

"Wouldn't it be awful if you lost it!" said Hester Scott. "Then your little girl never could have a locket."

"But I'm not going to lose it," insisted Meg. "Mother says I have to take it off as soon as I come home from school. Then I'll wear it Sundays and birthdays and when we have company."

Many of the children had brought their lunch, and Meg and Bobby had theirs with them. Mother Blossom thought they should be saved the walk home at noon when the deep snow made walking difficult. The afternoon period rather dragged, though Miss Mason, the teacher, read them stories about the frozen North and their geography lesson was all about the home of the polar bear.

"My, I was tired of listening," confided Bobby, hurrying home with Meg at half-past three. "What do we care what polar bears do when we've got snow all ready to use ourselves?"

"Feels like more, doesn't it?" said the scarlet-cheeked Meg, trotting along in her rubber boots, her blue eyes shining with antic.i.p.ated fun.

"Can't I steer good now, Bobby?"

"'Deed you can," returned Bobby. "You steer better than most girls.

There the twins are out with the sleds."

Dot and Twaddles, rubber-booted and snugly tied into m.u.f.flers and coats, greeted the arrival of the other two with a shout.

"Sam says it will snow more to-night," reported Twaddles gleefully.

"Maybe it will be as high as the house, Bobby."

"And maybe it won't," said Bobby practically. "Where's Mother?"

Meg and Bobby went into the house to leave their lunch boxes and tell Mother Blossom they were at home.

"Be sure and take off the locket, Meg," called her mother, as Meg went up to her room to get a clean handkerchief.

"Meg!" shouted Bobby, "where's my bearskin cap?"

This cap was an old one Father Blossom had worn on hunting trips when a young man. It was several sizes too large for Bobby, and made him look like a British Grenadier, but he thought it was the finest cap in the world. He liked to wear it when playing in the snow because it was warm.

"It's in the blue box on your closet shelf," answered Meg. She was an orderly little sister, and the boys counted on her help to remind them where they had left their things.

"Meg!" This time the call came from Norah, who was putting away clean sheets in the linen closet. "Down on the kitchen table I left four drop cakes--one apiece for ye. Your mother said 'twas all right."

"Meg! Bobby! Hurry up!" shrieked the twins.

Bobby crammed his cap on his head and dashed down the front stairs.

Meg seized her clean handkerchief, ran to the kitchen and got the cakes and went out by way of the back door.

"Thought you were never coming," grumbled Twaddles. "Cake, Meg?"

"One for you. One for Dot," said Meg dividing, and giving Bobby his.

"Now aren't you sorry you were cross?"

"He wasn't," Dot a.s.sured her; the twins had a way of standing up for each other. "He was just afraid the others would use up all the snow 'fore we got there."

Really, there didn't seem to be much danger of that. Wayne Place hill was alive with coasters when the four little Blossoms reached it. The snow was still deep and soft on the sides, and packed hard and smooth in the center of the road.

"Here comes a bob!" cried Bobby, as the children began their walk up.

"Look how she goes! Dave Saunders is steering."

The big sled shot past them, filled with high-school boys and girls.

"Ours is just as nice," said sunny-tempered Meg, catching Twaddles in a wistful stare.

CHAPTER IV

WHEN THE BOBSLED UPSET

"Our sleds are ever so much nicer," declared Bobby st.u.r.dily. "Bobs are no fun, Twaddles. You can't see a thing 'less you're steering. Come on now; we're going down."

Bobby took his place on the sled, Twaddles grasped the belt of his coat tightly, and Meg pushed. Away they went!

"Hurry up, Dot," cried Meg excitedly. "Let's get down before they start to walk up."

"Can you steer it?" asked Dot cautiously.

"What a question!" Meg was indignant. "Didn't I steer it all day Sat.u.r.day, silly?"

But Dot, for some reason, did not want to coast. To tell the truth, Meg had narrowly missed a tree Sat.u.r.day afternoon, and after that Dot had shut her eyes tight every time they went down the hill.

"You go too fast," she complained now.

Meg looked at her little sister, genuinely surprised.

"Why, you have to go fast," she said. "You can't stop the sled after you get to going. And if you did all the others would run into you.

Come on, Dot, you'll like it after the first ride."

By this time Bobby and Twaddles, rosy and panting, had reached the top of the hill.

"The snow's packed fine," said Bobby enthusiastically. "What are you waiting for, Meg? Feet cold?"

"No, they're warm enough," answered Meg, absently stamping her feet in the snow to prove it. "Dot's afraid."