"I am not!" cried Dot indignantly. "I just said Meg went too fast."

"And she wanted to know if I could steer," said Meg scornfully.

"There's nothing to steering, is there, Bobby?"

"Well, of course, you have to be careful," answered Bobby. "Suppose I take Dot down? Want to go with me?"

Dot nodded.

"All right," said Bobby. "Meg, you'll give Twaddles a coast or two, won't you? If he kicks you in the back just shove your elbow into him."

Twaddles looked abashed. He had a habit, when excited, of kicking with his sharp little right foot, and Bobby strongly objected to being punched in the back when he was centering all his mind on the steering bars of his sled.

Dot settled herself comfortably behind Bobby and glanced back at Meg uncertainly.

"You don't mind, do you, Meg?" she asked timidly.

"Mind?" echoed Meg. "Oh, no, of course not. Silly Dot!"

Meg, Father Blossom had once said, saved a good many minutes that other people wasted in grumbling or envying or being cross. Meg seldom had mean little feelings.

"One, two, three--go!" shouted Dave Saunders suddenly.

A whole fleet of little sleds with shrieking youngsters on them shot down the hill.

"Gee!" cried Twaddles, forgetting and using his right foot vigorously.

"Gee, isn't this fun!"

"There, did I steer to suit you?" asked Bobby of Dot, as he ran gently into a sloping snow bank and the sled stopped.

"It was lovely," sighed Dot. "Do it again, Bobby."

"All right," agreed Bobby. "You stay on, Dot, and we'll give you a ride back. But Twaddles, you walk."

"I should think he'd better," declared Meg severely. "Kicking me in the back like that!"

Twaddles was sure that he would remember the next time, and Meg forgave him.

At the top of the hill they lined up again, and Bobby found Tim Roon and Charlie Black on one side of him.

"Packs good, doesn't it?" said Tim affably.

During the fall and winter Tim and Charlie had occasioned a good deal of trouble for Bobby in one way or another, and he was not at all desirous of having much to do with them. In school, especially, they had landed him in a sad sc.r.a.pe, and Meg, too, had had to endure their teasing. Still, coasting was another matter.

"Have you been here long?" asked Bobby, as Dot tucked in her skirts and Twaddles planted himself behind Meg. "Why didn't you come to school?"

"Didn't want to," grinned Tim. "Charlie and I coasted all the morning, 'cept once when we saw old Hornbeck's buggy and horse coming. Had the whole hill to ourselves."

Dave Saunders shouted, and Meg and Bobby started. Down, down, they flew, Meg's small hands steering capably, Twaddles' right foot prodding her as enthusiastically as ever. Dot clung a little tighter to Bobby and gasped with cold air and delight.

They were almost at the end of the coast when a loud roar of laughter made them look back. A few rods behind, Tim and Charlie had upset, Tim falling head over heels into the snow at the side of the road and Charlie tumbling almost directly into the path of a coming sled. The boy steering, however, managed to swing out and avoid the limp and flattened Charles.

"Some spill," commented Bobby, using the slang he was learning in the school yard and putting out his foot as a brake, bringing his own sled to a standstill. "I'll bet that torn piece of runner caught on something."

They stood for a moment watching Charlie crawl out of the road and Tim scrambling out of the snow. Then they walked slowly up the hill for a last grand coast.

"'Cause it's getting dark," said Meg, "and Mother said we must come in at five o'clock. Let's ask Dave what time it is."

"Twenty minutes to five," said Dave, when they asked him. "Want to go down on the bob?"

"Oh, Bobby, can we?" Meg clapped her hands with delight. "I've never been on one. Come on, let's."

"What'll we do with our sleds?" asked Bobby doubtfully.

"Let Hester and me coast down on 'em, and then we'll keep 'em at the big tree till you come," suggested Palmer Davis.

Palmer had been using his tin tray cheerfully all the afternoon, but he did wish for a sled like Bobby's. If Bobby consented to his plan, he would have at least one good ride.

"All right, take 'em," said Bobby, giving his sled to Palmer.

Meg handed hers over to Hester Scott, who likewise had none of her own and had to watch her friends coasting, or hang on wherever there was room. She and Palmer immediately started down the hill on the borrowed sleds.

"Now pile on, kids," ordered Dave cheerfully. "Here, Dot, you and Meg will just fit in here between Rose and Louise. Bobby, get in here by Harold Cross. And, for goodness' sake, keep a tight grip on Twaddles.

If he falls off we can't stop to pick him up. All set?"

This was to be the last trip of the bobsled before supper, and Dave packed on his pa.s.sengers with extra care, desirous that they should each one have a final perfect trip. He was to steer, and took his place after the others were on. He sat before Rose Bacon, a pretty girl with dark eyes and a scarlet cap, and her cousin Louise Lathrop.

Back of Louise sat Meg and Dot. Bobby and Twaddles were almost at the end of the load.

"Yah! yah! bet you upset!" taunted Tim Roon, who had watched enviously as Dave arranged his pa.s.sengers.

"You keep still!" shouted the boys on the big sled. "All ready, Dave!"

With a sudden rush, the bobsled started. Dot clutched Meg frantically, and even Twaddles was startled. They had no idea it would seem so "different." The wind almost took their breath away, but they still had enough to scream with. You've noticed, haven't you, how every one on a bobsled just naturally screams when it is flying down a steep hill? It is partly the fun and partly the excitement, we suspect.

Laughing and shouting, they whizzed on, till, just as Dave was ready to shout to Fred Graves, the last boy, to put out his foot and Meg had a confused glimpse of the big tree they were pa.s.sing where Palmer and Hester waited for them, something happened. The bobsled upset!

No one was hurt, though for a moment it was quite impossible to sort out the arms and legs and wildly waving feet and decide to whom they belonged. The boys were up first, and soon had the girls on their feet, some of them speechless from laughter. The four little Blossoms came up smiling, and though Dot had a scratch on her finger from a nail in some one's shoe, it was trifling and did not bother her.

"All right? Everybody accounted for?" asked Dave, like the good general he was. "All right then. Now I say we'd better streak it for home. I've got some good stiff Latin to study to-night."

"What's the matter, Meg?" asked Bobby suddenly.

Meg's eyes were frightened, and she was feeling around the neck of her dress. She had unb.u.t.toned her coat and opened her gray m.u.f.fler.

"My gold locket!" she gasped. "I've lost it!"

She began to cry.

"Lost something?" asked one of the older girls kindly. "What was it?

Don't cry, Meg, we'll help you find it."