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