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