Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun | Page 8

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 passengers 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 passengers.
"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 passing 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 unbuttoned her coat and opened her gray muffler.
"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."
"It was her Aunt Dorothy locket," explained Dot, for Meg was already