Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun by Mabel C. Hawley

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FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AND THEIR WINTER FUN

BY

MABEL C. HAWLEY

AUTHOR OF "FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT BROOKSIDE FARM," "FOUR LITTLE
BLOSSOMS AT OAK HILL SCHOOL," ETC.

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

Akron, Ohio New York

Copyright MCMXX

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY

Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun

Made in the United States of America

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I THE FIRST SNOW-STORM
II BOBBY IS RESCUED
III AUNT DOROTHY'S LOCKET
IV WHEN THE BOBSLED UPSET
V MEG IN TROUBLE
VI THE ORANGE AND THE BLACK
VII A BIRTHDAY PARTY
VIII DOWN ON THE POND
IX A NEW KIND OF JAM
X WORKING FOR THE FAIR
XI BOBBY'S MEANEST DAY
XII BUILDING A SNOW MAN
XIII THE TWINS HAVE A SECRET
XIV LOST IN THE STORM
XV GREAT PREPARATIONS
XVI OVER THE CROSS ROAD
XVII MR. MENDAM
XVIII AT LAST THE FAIR

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AND THEIR WINTER FUN

CHAPTER I

THE FIRST SNOW-STORM

"Where's Mother?" Meg and Bobby Blossom demanded the moment they opened
the front door.

It was the first question they always asked when they came home from
school.

Twaddles, their little brother, looked up at them serenely from the
sofa cushion on which he sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of
the hall stairs.

"Mother and Aunt Polly went uptown," he informed his brother and
sister. "They're going to bring us something nice. They promised."

Meg pulled off her hat and unbuttoned her coat.

"I'm starving," she announced. "It's awfully cold out. What are you
doing anyway, Twaddles?"

"Sliding down the banisters," answered Twaddles calmly. "See, we
spread down sofa cushions so 's we wouldn't hurt ourselves. It's Dot's
turn now. Hi, Dot!" he ended in a shout.

"Here I come--look out!" With a swish of pink gingham skirt a small,
plump little girl came flying down the banister to land luckily on a
red satin sofa cushion ready to receive her.

"Well, I must say," announced Meg with dignity, "that's a fine way to
do--using Mother's best sofa cushions! Where's Norah?"

"Gone to the movies," replied Dot, pushing the hair out of her eyes and
smiling sunnily. "She waited till she saw you turn the corner, 'cause
she said she wouldn't leave us alone."

Twaddles, who had been pressing his short nose against the glass in the
door panel hoping to see his mother coming with the promised gift,
suddenly wheeled and tried to stand on his head. That was Twaddles'
way of expressing delight. "It's snowing!" he cried. "Little fine
snowflakes, the kind that Daddy says always last. Oh, I hope we have
coasting. I'll bet it snows all night."

"You said that Thanksgiving," retorted Bobby gloomily, "and it just
snowed enough to cover the ground one night and melted 'fore we were up
the next morning. And here it is January, and it hasn't snowed since."

"'Sides the sled is busted," agreed Twaddles mournfully, quite willing
to be melancholy if some one would show him the way. "Even if it did
snow, we couldn't have any fun without a sled."

"I guess we can mend it, maybe," interposed Meg cheerfully. "I'm going
out and get some bread and peanut butter. Who wants some?"

They all did, it seemed, even Dot and Twaddles, who were too young to
go to school, but who managed to have famous appetites as regularly as
the older children. Mother Blossom allowed them to have what Norah
called a "snack" every afternoon after school, and Meg was always
careful to see that they ate only the things permitted and that no one
dipped into the cake box.

"Look how white!" cried Dot, finishing her bread and butter first, and
kneeling on a kitchen chair to see out of the window. "The ground is
all covered already and you can see feetsteps."

"Footsteps," corrected Bobby, taking a last large bite of his lunch.

"Shoesteps," insisted Meg, closing the pantry door and putting away the
bread.

"That isn't a shoestep," argued Bobby, pointing to a particularly clear
and distinct print in the snow just outside the window.

"'Tis, too," scolded Meg. "That's where Sam went out to the garage."

"'Tisn't a shoestep, 'tisn't a shoestep!" chanted Bobby, bent on
teasing.

Meg's fair face flushed. She was exasperated.

"What is it, then?" she snapped.

Bobby measured the distance to the hall door.

"A rubberstep!" he shouted triumphantly. "Sam wore his rubbers! Yah!"

"You think you're smart!" said Meg, half laughing and half frowning.
"Just you wait, Bobby Blossom!"

She darted for him, but Bobby was too quick. He dashed out into the
hall, Meg following, and Dot and Twaddles trailing after them.
Shrieking and shouting, the four raced into the dining-room, tore twice
around the table, then into the long living-room, where Meg managed to
corner Bobby under the old-fashioned square piano.

They had forgotten to be angry by this time, and after she had tickled
him till he begged for mercy--Bobby was extremely ticklish--they
crawled out again, disheveled and panting, and were ready for something
new.

"I'm going to get some snow," declared Dot, beginning to raise one of
the windows.

"Don't! You'll freeze Mother's plants," warned Meg. "Dot Blossom,
don't you dare open that window!"

For answer Dot gave a final push and the sash shot up and locked half
way.

"Oh, it's love-ly!" cried Dot, leaning out and scooping up a handful of
the beautiful, soft, white stuff. "Just like feathers, Meg."

"You'll be a feather if you don't come in," growled Bobby sternly.
"Look out!"

Dot, leaning out further to sweep the sill clean, had slipped and was
going headlong when Bobby grasped her skirts. He pulled her back,
unhurt, except for a scratch on her nose from a bit of the vine
clinging to the house wall and a ruffled disposition.

"You leave me alone!" she blazed. "You've hurt my knee."

"Want to fall on your head?" demanded Bobby, justly indignant. "All
right, if that's the way you feel about it, I'll give you something to
be mad about."

Before the surprised Dot could protest, he had seized her firmly around
the neck and, holding her tightly (Bobby was very sturdy for his seven
years), he proceeded to wash her face with a handful of snow he hastily
scooped from the window sill. Dot was furious, but, though she
struggled and squirmed, she could not get free.

"Now you'll be good," said Bobby, giving her a sounding kiss as he let
her go, for he was very fond of his headstrong little sister. "Want
your face washed, Twaddles?"

There was a sudden rush for the window and Meg and Twaddles and Dot
armed themselves with handfuls of snow. Dot made for Twaddles, for she
saw more chance of being able to capture him, and Bobby had designs on
Meg.

"Glory be! Where to now?" Norah's cry came from the pantry as four
pairs of stout shoes thundered through her kitchen and up the back
stairs. Norah, if the children had stopped long enough to hear, would
have told them that she had hurried home to start supper after seeing
the "episode" of the serial picture she was interested in at the motion
picture house.

Dot sounded like a husky young Indian as she hurled herself upon
Twaddles in the center of Aunt Polly's carefully made bed in the
guest-room and rubbed what was left of her handful of snow into his
eyes and mouth.

"My, it's wet," he sputtered. "Let go, Dot! Ow! you're standing on my
finger."

Meg had dashed into her mother's room, and, banging the door in Bobby's
face, turned the key. She was safe!

Bobby had no intention of being defeated. When he heard the key turn
in the door he looked about for a way to outwit Meg. He might be able
to climb through the transom if he could get a ladder or a chair.

His own room was next to his mother's, and, turning in there to get a
chair, he saw the window. It opened on the roof of the porch, as did
the windows in his mother's room. What could be simpler than to walk
along the roof of the porch, raise a window and get in? He could
gather up more snow, too, as he went along, and just wouldn't he wash
Meg's face for her!

"What you going to do?" asked Twaddles, as Bobby hoisted his window.

Dot and Twaddles, tiring of their own fracas, had come in search of Meg
and Bobby.

"You wait and you'll see," answered Bobby mysteriously, putting one leg
over the sill.

Dot and Twaddles crowded into the open window to watch him as he picked
his way along. There was a linen closet between the two rooms, so
Bobby had some space to cover before he came to the windows of the room
where Meg was hiding.

"My goodness!" whispered that small girl to herself, parting the white
curtains to look out as she heard footsteps on the porch roof. "He
might fall; it's ever so slippery!"

It was slippery; in fact, the roof was much harder to walk on than
Bobby had suspected. For one thing, the roof sloped, and he had to
cling to the side of the house as he walked; then, too, the fine
driving snow almost blinded him; and a third reason that made it hard
going was the way the snow caked and clung to his shoes.

He had reached the window where Meg was waiting, so interested in
watching him that she had forgotten why he was coming, and he stooped
for a handful of fresh snow. Meg grinned cheerfully at him as he
straightened up.

"I'll let you in," she called through the glass, beginning to push up
the window.

Bobby reached out to get a good grip on the window frame, missed the
ledge and lost his balance. His foot slipped as he threw out his arms
to save himself.

CHAPTER II

BOBBY IS RESCUED

Before the frightened gaze of three pairs of eyes Bobby slid backward
over the edge of the porch roof, out of sight.

"He'll be killed!" sobbed Meg, dashing for the door.

She unlocked it and fled down the hall, followed by Dot and Twaddles.

"What is it? What is it?" screamed Norah, as she caught a glimpse of
Meg's white face from the dining-room where she was beginning to set
the supper table. "Has anything happened to any of ye?"

Meg was already out of the front door. Norah caught up her red shawl
and ran after her.

Norah had lived with the Blossoms ever since Bobby was a baby. He was
now seven years old. There were four little Blossoms now, and never a
dispute about the "baby of the family," for there were two of them!
Dot and Twaddles were twins, you see. They were four years old, but
liked to be considered older, as many of the younger children do.

If you have read the first book of this series, called "Four Little
Blossoms at Brookside Farm," you already know many of their friends,
and above all their Aunt Polly Hayward, who was their mother's older
sister. Brookside Farm was Aunt Polly's home, and the four children
spent a beautiful summer there with her and learned about farm life and
were given a calf, "Carlotta," for their very own. This first book,
too, explains about the real names of the four little Blossoms. Bobby
was Robert Hayward Blossom, Meg's right name Margaret Alice, like her
mother's, and Dot's, Dorothy Anna. Twaddles had a very nice name, too,
Arthur Gifford Blossom, and no one ever knew why he was called
Twaddles. It seemed to suit him, somehow.

The Blossoms, Father and Mother Blossom and the four children, lived in
a town called Oak Hill, where Father Blossom owned a large foundry at
one end of the town. Meg and Bobby, of course, went to school. You
may have read the book before this one, called "Four Little Blossoms at
Oak Hill School," which tells about the troubles Bobby encountered and
how he came safely through them, and of how the twins were so eager to
go to school that they finally did in spite of the fact that they were
only four years old. If you read that book you will remember that Aunt
Polly came down to visit Mother Blossom over Thanksgiving and went to
the school exercises to hear Meg and Bobby recite. She stayed for
Christmas, too. And finally, because every one loved her very much and
because she had no little people of her own at Brookside, she yielded
to the persuasion of Father and Mother Blossom and promised to spend
the rest of the winter in Oak Hill.

Besides Norah, there lived with the Blossoms Sam Layton, who ran Father
Blossom's car and did all the outside work about the place; Philip, a
very intelligent and amiable dog, and Annabel Lee, an affectionate and
much beloved cat. Dear me, Twaddles had some rabbits, too. He would
want you to know those. And now that you are properly introduced, let
us go and see what happened to Bobby.

Meg fell down every one of the front steps in her anxiety to reach her
brother, and Norah alone saved the twins from a like fall. They
tumbled into her and the three held each other up. At least that is
the way Twaddles explained it.

"Bobby! Oh, Bobby, are you dead?" wailed Meg, looking, for some
inexplicable reason, toward the porch roof. Of course Bobby couldn't
be up there when he had fallen off.

"Of course I'm not dead," the indignant voice of Bobby assured her.
"I'm all right, not hurt a bit. But I'm stuck in this old bush."

He had had the good fortune, for he might have been seriously hurt if
he had struck the ground, to tumble into a large bush planted a short
distance from the porch. This bush had not been trimmed for years, and
new shoots had grown up and mingled with the old branches until it was
very tough and tangled and strong. Plunged in the middle of this
sturdy old friend, was Bobby.

"Why don't ye come out?" demanded Norah, relieved to find that he was
not hurt. "I left the teakettle boiling over to come and see if ye
were killed."

"I can't get out," said Bobby, struggling. "Lend us a hand, can't you,
Twaddles?"

Bobby had fallen with enough force to wedge himself tightly into the
heart of the bush, and indeed it was no easy matter to dislodge him.
Norah took one hand and Meg the other, and they tugged and pulled till
Norah was afraid they might pull him out in pieces.

"Where's Sam?" panted Meg. "He could bend down some of the branches."

"Sam," said Norah, "has gone to meet your father with the car."

"Here comes Mother!" shouted Twaddles, as a familiar figure came up the
path. "Oh, Mother, Bobby's stuck!"

Mother Blossom was used to "most anything." She said so often. The
four little Blossoms had heard her. So now, though Aunt Polly gasped
to see the front door wide open and the hall light streaming out over
the snow, three children dancing about in the cold with no wraps on and
a fourth nearly buried in a tall bush, Mother Blossom merely put down
the two or three bundles she carried, leaned her weight against the
bush and directed Norah how to bend down other branches. Then, holding
on to his mother's arm, Bobby crawled out.

"Run in, every one of you, before you take cold," commanded Mother
Blossom quickly. "What have you been doing? Dot looks as though she
had been through a mill."

Sweeping them before her, Mother Blossom soon had them marshaled into
the house. Aunt Polly closed the door and Norah flew to her neglected
kitchen. It was dark outside by this time, and the steadily falling
snow had spread a thick carpet on the ground.

"Did you bring us something?" asked Dot expectantly, her hair-ribbon
over one eye and both pockets torn from her apron.

"Did you bring us something?" inquired Twaddles, shaking Mother
Blossom's packages to try to find out what was in them.

"Did you bring us something?" said Meg and Bobby together, each holding
out a hand for overshoes.

Mother Blossom gave hers to Bobby, and Aunt Polly handed hers to Meg,
to be put away in the hall closet under the stairs. Just as Meg closed
the door of the closet the doorbell rang.

"There's the boy now," announced Mother Blossom. "He's bringing you
the something nice I promised."

The boy from Gobert's, the hardware store uptown, probably had never
received a more enthusiastic welcome in his life than that he
experienced at the Blossom house. Four children flung open the door
for him and fell upon him crying: "Where is it? Who's it for? Let me
see it!"

He was a tall, thin boy, with a wide, cheerful grin, and four children
pouncing upon him at once could not shake his self-possession.

"Got two sleds," he said impressively. "Mrs. Blossom said to send 'em
right up. Where do you want them?"

"Put them down there on the rug," directed Mother Blossom, smiling.
"Don't you want to come in and get warm, Ted?"

"No thanks," replied Ted, putting on his cap, again. "Want to hustle
right home to supper. Looks like a big storm."

He stamped down the steps into the snow, and Meg closed the hall door.

"Two sleds!" Twaddles was round-eyed with admiration. "Now I won't
have to wait all afternoon for my turn."

"Unwrap them," said Mother Blossom. "They're just alike, one for the
girls, and one for you and Bobby. Aunt Polly bought one as her gift."

Aunt Polly had gone upstairs to take off her hat, but the shouts of
excitement brought her back quickly.

"Flexible flyers!" cried Bobby. "Oh, Mother, can't we go out to-night?"

"Mercy, no," answered Mother Blossom. "To-morrow's Saturday, and
you'll have plenty of time to play in the snow. Hurry now, and get
ready for supper. I shouldn't want Daddy to come home and find his
family looking like wild Indians."

It was too much to expect that the children could think or talk
anything but sleds and snow that evening, and many were the anxious
peeps taken through the living-room windows after supper to see how
deep the feathery stuff was.

"Still snowing," reported Sam, as he brought in a great armful of wood
for the fireplace. "Looks like real winter at last."

Mother Blossom was mending the twins' mittens, for their thumbs had a
way of coming through, no matter how often she knitted them new pairs
or darned the old.

"I'm going upstairs to hunt my muffler," said Meg. "I think I left it
in the bureau drawer, but I'd better look."

Father Blossom laughed.

"You all evidently plan to start out right after breakfast, don't you?"
he teased them. "Where is the best coasting, Bobby?"

"On Wayne Place hill," replied Bobby. "My, I'm anxious to let Fred
Baldwin see the new sled."

Aunt Polly folded up her embroidery.

"I'll go upstairs with you, Meg," she said. "I've something I want to
show you. Come into my room after you find your scarf."

As they went upstairs they met Twaddles coming down, carrying the cat,
Annabel Lee, in his arms.

"Going to give her a ride on the sled--just in the hall," he informed
them. "If she gets used to sleds in the house, maybe she'll like to
take a ride outdoors. Philip could pull her."

Aunt Polly was doubtful about Annabel Lee's feelings toward sleds, but
Twaddles was sure she would learn to like coasting.

CHAPTER III

AUNT DOROTHY'S LOCKET

"Aunt Polly?" Meg tapped lightly on her aunt's door.

"Yes, dear, come in," called Aunt Polly. "You found your muffler?
That's good. Come over here and see this."

Aunt Polly was seated before her open trunk, a little white box on her
knees. Meg came and stood beside her.

"This was your great-great Aunt Dorothy's," said Aunt Polly, opening
the little box.

It was lined with blue velvet and on the velvet lay a little gold
locket.

"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Meg.

The locket was round and set with tiny blue stones that formed three
forget-me-not flowers. In the center of each flower sparkled a tiny
diamond.

"The blue stones are turquoises," explained Aunt Polly. "Great Aunt
Dorothy wore her locket on a bit of black velvet, but I bought this
chain for you. Do you like it, dear?"

"Is it for me?" asked the surprised Meg. "For me, Auntie? Can I wear
it to school and show it to the girls? Oh! can I?"

"It is for you," Aunt Polly assured her small niece, kissing her.
"But, honey, you must be careful of it. Wear it to school one day, if
you want to, and then keep it for special times. You see, you must
save it for your little girl."

"My little girl?" echoed Meg, wonderingly. "Why?"

"Because," explained Aunt Polly seriously, "this locket has always been
handed down to the oldest daughter. Great-great Aunt Dorothy gave it
to her daughter, and she gave it to her oldest daughter and so on.
Some might say I should give it to Dot, because she is named for great
Aunt Dorothy, but you are the oldest daughter. I had it instead of
your mother for that reason. And as I have no daughter, it goes to
you."

Meg ran downstairs to show her gift, and the sleds were forgotten while
the children crowded around to examine the pretty locket.

"You must be very careful of it, Daughter," said Father Blossom. "You
know you've lost two or three trinkets. This is the kind of thing you
can't replace if you lose it."

"I'll be careful," promised Meg, clasping the fine gold chain around
her neck again and dancing off to the kitchen to show her treasure to
Norah.

The next morning it had stopped snowing, but there was, as Sam
remarked, "enough and to spare" of snow for coasting. The minute
breakfast was over the four little Blossoms, warmly bundled up, were
out with their sleds.

Wayne Place hill was a famous coasting hill, and all kinds of children
with all kinds of sleds were on hand to enjoy the first real sledding
of the winter.

"Trade with you, Bobby," called a freckle-faced boy, dragging an old
tin tray.

Bobby grinned.

"Won't trade," he called back. "But you can go down with me."

So the freckle-faced boy, whose name was Palmer Davis, took turns
coasting downhill on his tray, which he managed very skilfully, and
going down with Bobby on the brand-new sled.

Bobby taught Meg how to steer, and he usually pulled Twaddles up the
hill, while Meg gave Dot an extra ride. They coasted the whole morning
and went back for the afternoon.

"I'd never get tired," declared Twaddles, as they were starring home.
"I could go sledding all my life!"

"I never get tired, either," announced Dot, from the sled where she was
comfortably tucked on and being pulled along by patient Meg.

"That's 'cause you're too young to work," said Meg bluntly, giving the
rope such a sudden pull that Dot nearly went over backward.

"She isn't too young," cried Twaddles, who always disliked any allusion
to age; he and Dot wanted to be thought just as old as Bobby and Meg.
"Hi, Meg, listen! I'm telling you----"

Twaddles twisted around to catch Meg's attention and fell over into a
snow drift that lined the edge of the walk. When he had been fished
out and brushed off, he had forgotten what he had meant to tell.

Sunday it snowed more, and a high wind whirled the flakes about till
the older folk shook their heads and began to talk about a blizzard.
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 anticipated 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 mufflers 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.

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