Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun | Page 7

some reason, did not want to coast. To tell the truth, Meg had narrowly missed a tree Saturday 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."
"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 scrape, 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