"Going to see the parade?" asked Palmer Davis, as Miss Mason's class poured down the stairway.

"Going to see the parade?" the girls asked Meg.

"Sure," Bobby answered for both. "We're going to sit in Mr. Steve Broadwell's window. You can see fine from there."

Stephen Broadwell was a druggist, and his window upstairs over his drugstore was a coveted place for parades of all kinds in Oak Hill. Everything paraded up the main street past the drugstore.

Meg and Bobby found Sam and the twins already waiting for them when they hurried up the steep dark stairs that led to the storeroom over the drugstore.

"Been here half an hour," grinned Sam. "Dot was so afraid she'd miss the start that she wanted me to bring her in the car."

The four little Blossoms squeezed into the window and Sam looked over their shoulders.

"Music!" cried Dot. "I hear it! They're coming!"

"I see 'em!" shouted Bobby, leaning out to look. "My, see the horses, Meg!"

Sam pulled him in again, and in another minute the parade was marching by in full swing. You know how wonderful a circus parade is; that is, if you have ever seen one. And if you haven't, goodness! we couldn't begin to do it justice. Of course the very largest circuses didn't come to Oak Hill; but still this one had many things to see. There were cream-colored horses and black ones, with girls dressed in pink and blue and white fluffy dresses and gorgeous long red coats, riding them. There were cages of animals, some of them sleeping and some switching their tails angrily and showing their teeth. There was a whole wagon load of monkeys, two bands, and even an elephant and a camel.

"Wouldn't it be awful if we couldn't go to the circus?" said Bobby solemnly, as the last of the procession, the clown driving his own cunning pony and cart, went up the street. "After seeing that parade I never could be happy 'less I saw them at the circus."

"Well, we are going," Meg reminded him practically.

"Let's hurry," urged Twaddles. "Maybe all the seats will be gone."

"Daddy bought tickets," said Dot dreamily. "Wasn't the first pony pretty? And did you see the little dog riding on him? Do you suppose Philip could ride a pony, Meg?"

Meg was sure Philip could, if he had a pony to ride and some one to teach him.

As the four little Blossoms and Sam went downstairs whom should they meet but Doctor Maynard, an old friend of the whole Blossom family, and the doctor who had helped them set Philip's leg when he had broken it.

"Well, well," said the doctor, smiling, "I think I know what you have been doing upstairs—watching the circus parade. And now where to?"

"Home," replied Meg. "We have to hurry, 'cause Daddy is going to take us to the circus this afternoon."

"Do you suppose you would have time to have a soda?" asked the doctor.

The children thought they would, and Doctor Maynard lined them up before the fountain and let each one choose. Meg and Bobby, who always liked the same things, took chocolate, and Dot asked for strawberry, while Twaddles said he would have orange. Doctor Maynard and Sam had ginger-ale, which Meg privately thought unpleasant stuff, it tickled one's throat so.

"Have a good time at the circus," said the doctor, as they said good-by. "Don't tease the elephant, and don't let the monkeys tease you."

"I should think the monkeys would be cold in the winter," mused Meg, as they walked home. "Bears and lions have warm furry skins, but monkeys don't."

"Oh, the circus rests up in winter," Sam assured her. "This is about the last stop they'll make this season. When it gets too cold for folks to sit out in tents, you know, a circus goes into winter quarters. They are just as cozy then as you are. All the circus people mend their clothes and rest and plan out new tricks for the spring. And the animals rest and sleep and get their coats into good condition, and have all they want to eat."

At home the four little Blossoms found Father Blossom, and as soon as they had finished lunch they started for the big tent. It was pitched in the same place every time the circus came to Oak Hill, a wide open space just outside the town limits, and Bobby remembered it very well.

"See all the people!" cried Dot, jumping up and down with delight. "There's Nina and Mary and Freddy, and oh, everybody!"

It did seem as if all Oak Hill had turned out to go to the circus, and Bobby wondered if there would be any left to see it that night when Sam and Norah went.

"Tickets," said the man at the gate. "All right, five of you."

They went into the big tent and found their seats down near the ring. The clown was already driving around and around in his pony cart, and he waved to Dot quite as if he knew her.

"I guess he remembers me from this morning," she said with satisfaction.

More people kept coming in, and soon the tent was crowded. Then the matinee began, with a grand parade all around the ring, horses prancing, whips cracking, the monkeys shrieking shrilly. For three hours the four little Blossoms were enthralled by the antics of the clever beasts and the men and women performers, and they could hardly believe it when Father Blossom said they must put on their hats, for the performance was over.

"Won't there be any more?" begged Dot, putting on her hat backward in her excitement. "Just a little more, Daddy?"

"Why, we've been here three hours," said Father Blossom, smiling. "The circus has to have its supper and be ready for the evening crowd, you know. You wouldn't want them to be too tired to go through their tricks for Norah and Sam, would you?"

Of course Dot didn't want the circus to get completely tired out, so she agreed that perhaps it was time to go home.

They brought Norah such glowing accounts of the things they had seen that she was "all in a flutter," she said, and indeed she did serve the potatoes in a soup dish. But as Father Blossom said, most anything was likely to happen on circus day.

"You must all go to bed extra early to-night," he warned the children. "If Meg and Bobby are late for school to-morrow, the circus will be blamed. Dot looks as if she couldn't keep her eyes open another minute."

Meg and Bobby went to bed when the twins' bedtime came, for they were tired, and they fell asleep at once. But suddenly the loud ringing of the telephone bell woke them.



CHAPTER XIII

A MONKEY HUNT

"Daddy! Daddy!" cried Meg, tumbling out of bed and running into the hall. "There's the telephone."

Father Blossom came out of his room. He had been reading and was fully dressed, for it was not late for grown-up people, only about ten o'clock.

"I'm going, Daughter," he said. "Perhaps Mother has decided to come out on the late train."

Meg leaned over the banisters to listen, and Bobby joined her there. The twins did not wake up, for they were sound sleepers.

Father Blossom took down the receiver and said "Hello!" Then they heard him ask a quick, low question or two, and then he laughed. How he laughed! He threw back his head and fairly shouted. Meg and Bobby had to laugh, too, though they had not the faintest idea what the joke was about.

When Father Blossom hung the receiver up, he was still laughing. He glanced up and saw Meg and Bobby.

"You'll get cold. Run back to bed," he said. "That was Sam telephoning. What do you suppose happened? The cage of monkeys upset in the ring and the door-catch broke and they're all loose! Sam said half the audience chased them around the tent and it broke up the show."

"Did they catch them?" asked Meg, her eyes big with interest.

"Not one," answered her father. "Get into bed immediately, children. Perhaps you'll meet monkeys on your way to school to-morrow."

"I wish we could," murmured Meg, cuddling sleepily into her warm bed. "Wouldn't that be fun!"

"I'd like to catch a monkey," said Bobby to himself, as he climbed into his bed in the next room. "Maybe he'd do tricks for me."

In the morning Meg and Bobby were out in the kitchen before breakfast, getting from Norah the details of the monkeys' escape.

"'Deed then, I hope they catch every one of 'em—bad 'cess to 'em," said Norah indignantly. "Thieving, sly, little torments! Didn't they claw Mrs. O'Toole's bonnet nigh off her head last night, to say nothing of scaring her into fits? Don't say monkey to me!"

On their way to school the children found that the news of the overturned monkey cage was known to the whole town. Not a boy who didn't hope to be able to catch a monkey or two.

"There's a reward offered—five dollars for each monkey," Palmer Davis reported when he met Meg and Bobby at the school door. "Yep—my cousin told me; and he's in the Oak Hill Daily Advertiser office, and I guess he ought to know."

The majority of the children in Miss Mason's room stayed downstairs till the "warning bell" rang and then hurried to their room to put away their coats and hats in the cloak room. It was Miss Mason's rule that they must be quietly in their seats, ready for the march to the assembly hall, when the nine o'clock bell rang.

"It's too cold to hang around out here, so let's go up," suggested Palmer Davis on this morning. "The warning bell will ring in a minute, anyway."

Meg and Bobby were willing, especially as the air was sharp and chill, cold enough for snow Meg thought, though of course it never snowed so early in the fall, and they trooped happily upstairs. A number of boys and girls were already in the room and Miss Mason was working at her desk. Her hat was off and lay on one of the school desks, for she meant to carry it over to the teacher's room as soon as she had worked out an example for the little girl who had asked her help.

Nina Mills pushed her way into the cloak room ahead of Meg and Bobby, and as the latter grasped the swinging door they heard Nina give a loud yell.

"Look out! Get away!" She came tumbling out of the cloak room, her face white with terror. "There's a monkey in there!" she gasped.

Half of the pupils immediately scattered. Most of the girls fled screaming, and some of the boys followed them. Miss Mason stood up, undecided what to do.

"Get a pole and kill him!" shouted Tim Roon, from a safe position behind the bookcase. "Mash him 'fore he has a chance to fight."

"Don't be silly," snapped Bobby. "A monkey can't hurt you. Let's catch it."

Now, no one had any experience, in catching a monkey, and they were willing to let Bobby go about it as he saw fit.

"One of you hold open the door," he decided after a minute's thought. "Meg, you stand there and hold out your dress. I'll go in and chase him out to you. Are you afraid? 'Cause I'll stand to catch him and you can chase him out if you'd rather. Only your dress will help."

Meg said she wasn't afraid and took her place in the doorway. Palmer Davis volunteered to hold the door back, and the others stood as far away as they could.

"Look out! Here he comes!" shouted Bobby suddenly.

Meg spread out her skirts. A small, black ball hurled itself through the door, rolled between Meg's feet and jumped to a desk. Like a flash the monkey ran lightly over the desk tops, down the aisle, reached the desk where Miss Mason's hat lay, and seized it in one paw. She made a frantic grab for it, but missed. With a derisive chuckle and some remark in monkey talk that no one could understand, the monkey gained the open window and scampered down the fire-escape.

"My best, new hat! Run after him!" wailed Miss Mason.

The nine o'clock bell had rung five minutes before, but no one thought of that. The entire school knew that one of the circus monkeys had been found in Miss Mason's room, and there was no question of holding assembly till it was driven out or captured.

Pell-mell down the stairs ran the children after the monkey. His quick eyes glanced about for a haven. A tall pine tree stood near the front gate, and toward this the monkey ran, a pack of screaming children after him. He had the best of them when it came to climbing, and before the first boy reached the tree he was half way to the top.

"We can't climb that," said a fourth-grade pupil disconsolately. "All the branches have been cut to keep it off the ground. How'll we ever get that hat back?"

But Miss Mason had no intention of losing her best hat, and she was already telephoning for one of the town firemen to come and bring his longest ladder. When he heard that he was to rescue a monkey he was indignant; then when she reminded him of the reward, he thought that after all he might be able to do it. So the children had the fun of watching him come with his ladder and climb up to get, after some difficulty, both monkey and hat.

Dear knows when the children would have gone back to school after the monkey was brought down, for he proved to be a friendly animal and was evidently used to petting, and every one was eager to make his acquaintance, but Miss Wright finally came out and ordered them all into the building, and after that affairs gradually settled down. But many were the secret wishes that every school day could start with a monkey hunt.

At noon Meg and Bobby had so much to tell, and the twins were so interested and so full of self-pity to think that they couldn't go to school and find monkeys in the cloak room that Mother Blossom's piece of news was almost overlooked.

"I have something nice to tell you," she said at last, smiling mysteriously, as she helped them to pudding.

"Something nice?" puzzled Meg. "Can Annabel Lee sleep on my bed?"

Meg was sure that the comfortable kitchen was not comfortable enough for the cat, and she teased persistently to be allowed to have Annabel Lee sleep at the foot of her bed at night.

"Nothing at all to do with Annabel Lee," said Mother Blossom. "This is something that will please you all. Don't play with your spoon, Bobby—you'll be late going back to school."

"Company?" demanded Twaddles, who was very hospitable.

"You saw the letter come," laughed Mother Blossom. "Well, I'll have to help you this much—we are going to have company."

"I know," cried Meg, almost choking over her pudding. "I know! Aunt Polly's coming! Oh, goody!"

"Is she, Mother?" asked Bobby delightedly. "Honest? When? Soon? Can we go to meet her?"

"Yes, she's coming," replied Mother Blossom. "Not right away. About a week before Thanksgiving, she says, and then she'll stay over the holiday."

"Oh, that's ever so far off," objected Twaddles. "I thought maybe she'd come to-morrow or to-day."

Mother Blossom smiled.

"Thanksgiving is only about three weeks off," she reminded him. "Aunt Polly will be here in less than two weeks. And Meg and Bobby have to begin to practice their Thanksgiving pieces soon, don't you, children?"

"Miss Mason's going to give 'em out this afternoon," replied Bobby. "Say, Mother, do I have to learn a piece? Girls like to wear fussy clothes and get up on the platform and speak or sing, but I feel awful."

"Well, that will be for your teacher to say," returned Mother Blossom. "I don't suppose either you or Meg will have to learn very long poems. And think, dear, wouldn't you like to have a part in the exercises when Aunt Polly will be here to see you?"

Bobby hadn't thought of that. Perhaps he would like to have Aunt Polly hear him recite something.

"But nothing with gestures," he said firmly. "I'm not going to get up there and wave my hands and yell."



CHAPTER XIV

AUNT POLLY ARRIVES

When Meg and Bobby came home from school that afternoon they brought the news that each had been given a Thanksgiving recitation to learn. Miss Mason did not feel as sure as she had at first that it was Bobby who had spoiled her book. Mr. Carter's championship of Bobby was not without results. Still, she did not wholly absolve him, and while she was fair enough not to mention the subject again, Bobby knew that she had not forgotten. He was surprised when his name was read aloud as one to have part in the exercises.

"There's six of us boys," announced Bobby to Mother Blossom. "We all come out at once and take turns saying a verse. Tim Roon and Charlie Black aren't in it. Miss Mason said that last year they promised to learn a part and they never even tried. And then they spoiled the whole thing by staying away from the exercises."

Meg was waiting her turn impatiently.

"I have the longest piece!" she began breathlessly the moment Bobby finished. "Five verses, Mother! And we're not going to have any time to study in school! Will you hear me?"

Mother Blossom said of course she would, and Meg began studying her verses that very night after supper.

"You'll have to have a new white dress," decided Mother Blossom. "You're growing so fast, Meg, that none of your summer dresses will do. I'll have to call up Miss Florence and see, if you can stop in to be measured to-morrow."

For cheerful little Miss Florence, who flitted about from house to house making pretty dresses for little girls and their mothers and sisters, had sprained her ankle a day or two before and Doctor Maynard would not hear of her leaving the house for weeks and weeks.

"Lucky it wasn't my wrist," Miss Florence had laughed. "I can still sew, if my customers come to me."

Mother Blossom telephoned that afternoon, and Miss Florence said that she could begin Meg's new dress early the next week. She would only have to come two or three times to try it on, and then Miss Florence would send word when she or Bobby might come after it. Miss Florence had no one to run errands for her.

What with practicing "pieces," and being fitted for a new dress, and going to school and playing a little every day, the time fairly flew, and before Meg and Bobby knew it Aunt Polly had come.

"How you've grown!" she cried when she saw the four little Blossoms. "Why, I don't believe Jud would know you if he saw you." Jud had been a great friend of the children's when they visited Aunt Polly at Brookside Farm, and they had other friends to ask after, too.

"How's Carlotta?" demanded Meg eagerly. Carlotta was the calf given to Meg and Bobby as a reward for help they had given one of Aunt Polly's neighbors.

"Carlotta is growing," said Aunt Polly, smiling. "And Linda is going to school, which leaves me all alone in the house. I declare I was glad to close it and come down to you, Margaret."

Aunt Polly was Mother Blossom's widowed older sister. The children loved her dearly, and now, each with a red apple in hand from the bag Aunt Polly had brought them, they crowded around to ask if she wouldn't like them to rehearse.

"Rehearse?" asked Aunt Polly, puzzled. "Rehearse what, blessings?"

"Bobby and I have to speak a piece in school the day before Thanksgiving," explained Meg, "and the twins always have to say poetry, too, when we practice. Mother hears us every night; don't you, Mother?"

"What fun!" Aunt Polly clapped her hands, her eyes sparkling. "I don't know when I've been to any school exercises. By all means have a rehearsal, Meg. Your father, mother and I will be the audience."

The children went out of the room, and Bobby came back alone. He went to the center of the room, bowed a little stiffly and said his six-line verse rapidly.

"Of course it will sound better with six boys taking turns," he explained, slipping into a chair near Aunt Polly to enjoy the rest of the entertainment. "My, I hope I don't forget it that afternoon!"

Dot came next, walking composedly, and she gave them "Twinkle, twinkle, little star," her old stand-by; that was one verse Dot was always sure of.

When Twaddles' turn came he bowed, thought for a full minute, and then launched into the Mother Goose rhyme of "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater."

"Pumpkins are for Thanksgiving," he assured Aunt Polly anxiously, in case she should think his selection strange.

"Of course they are!" she cried, drawing Twaddles into her lap and hugging him. "I suspect Jud is packing the largest he can find into a box now to send us for our pies."

Meg had been upstairs and put on one of her summer white dresses, too short in the skirt and too tight in the sleeves, for Meg, as Mother Blossom had said, was growing very fast.

"You just ought to see the dress Miss Florence is making me, Aunt Polly," Meg said, her blue eyes shining. "It has two tucks in the skirt, and puff sleeves——"

"And a pink sash," chimed in Dot.

"Well, what about your piece?" asked Father Blossom. "You don't suppose there is any danger that you'll march up on the platform Wednesday afternoon and recite a verse about pink sashes and tucks, do you, instead of Thanksgiving?"

Meg was sure she wouldn't do that, and to prove it, she recited her whole five verses very nicely, and with no mistake.

"She has gestures—Mother showed her how," said Bobby, very proud of his pretty sister. "I don't like to wave my hands, but I like to watch other people do it."

A few days before the all-important Wednesday Miss Florence telephoned—she had a telephone in her house now that she could not go out—and said that Meg's dress was finished. When Bobby and Meg came home from school at noon for lunch, Mother Blossom told them to go around by Miss Florence's house that afternoon and get the frock.

"Dear, dear, if I'm not stupid," fussed Miss Florence, folding the crisp, dainty folds of the dress a few minutes after the children had rung her bell and announced they were to take the package. "Here I've gone and saved this nice box for it, and it hasn't a lid. If I lay sheets of tissue paper over it and pin them carefully, do you think you can carry it?"

"Sure I can," said Bobby. "You don't need a cover, Miss Florence. Come on, Meg."

"Be careful and don't drop it," warned Miss Florence, hobbling on her lame ankle to the door to watch them down the steps. "Isn't it a miserable day out!"

Meg and Bobby didn't think it was a miserable day, though the wind was raw and cold, and the ground, soft from the first freeze, was slippery and muddy. But, as Bobby had once said, they were fond of "just plain weather."

"Oh, dear," wailed Meg when they were half way home, "here comes that mean, disagreeable Tim Roon. He's the hatefulest boy!"

Tim Roon, as usual, was loitering along, his hands in his pockets, his lips puckered up for the whistle that didn't come. Tim never quite did anything he started to do, whether it was to weed his father's garden or whistle a tune.

"Hello!" he said, stopping close to Meg. "What have we in the large box?"

"Go 'way," returned Meg fearfully. "Leave Bobby be. That's my new dress."

Tim's voice changed to a high, squeaky, thin note.

"'Call me early, Mother,'" he chortled, "'for I'm to be Queen of the May, Mother, I'm to be Queen of the May.'"

"You take the box, Meg," said Bobby angrily, "while I hit that big chump."

Meg reached for the box, but Tim was quicker and he knocked it spinning. Then away he went, running at top speed, his shouts of laughter echoing up the street.

"I'll bet it's all mud!" mourned Meg, crying a little. "Oh, Bobby, did it fall in a puddle?"

Bobby was peeping under the tissue paper covers.

"'Tisn't hurt a mite," he declared. "Not one spot, Meg. See, the box fell right side up. Isn't that lucky?"

Just at that moment Charlie Black came flying around the corner on his roller skates and ran into Meg before he could stop himself. He knocked her down and landed on top of her.

"Meg, Meg, did he hurt you?" Bobby had Meg on her feet in a second. "No? You sure? Well, just you watch me pound him."

Bobby was furious, and hitting Charlie Black he felt would relieve his feeling almost as much as a fight with Tim Roon. The two bad boys never lost an opportunity to torment him or Meg, and Bobby felt that here was a heaven-sent opportunity to even up old scores.

"I've got my skates on," whimpered Charlie, as Bobby leaned over him. "Don't you dare touch me, Bobby Blossom! Go 'way! I tell you 'tisn't fair! I've got my skates on!"

"Well, I don't care if you have!" roared Bobby. "Stand up, and see what you'll get! Stand up!"

Charlie much preferred to lie down, and now he simply rolled over on his back and pawed the air wildly.

"Don't you dare touch me!" he kept crying. "Go away! Leave me alone."

Bobby looked disgusted.

"You leave me alone and I'll give you something," Charlie whimpered. "Honest I will, Bobby."

"What?" said Bobby shortly.

Charlie Black sat up and tried to grin at Meg.

"I got four kittens," he said, careless as usual of his grammar. "They're beauties."



CHAPTER XV

MR. FRITZ'S KITTENS

Of course Meg's attention was held at once.

"Where did you get any kittens, Charlie?" she asked, half inclined not to believe him.

Charlie wriggled along the ground till he was a safe distance from Bobby, then scrambled to his feet.

"A man gave 'em to me," he said. "He wants me to drown 'em!" and away he skated as fast as he could go.

"Bobby!" Meg almost screamed. "Bobby! don't let him drown the kittens."

Meg was, as her family said, "crazy" about all animals, and kittens were her special delight. But then Bobby didn't like the idea of drowning four helpless little cats in the icy cold water of the pond, either. He started after Charlie Black, and Meg went after him and really wished she didn't have a new dress for a moment because she found the box a nuisance to carry.

Charlie could skate fairly well, but that was when he was watching where he was going. This time he was watching Bobby instead and as a result he failed to see a curb and went over it with a jolt that landed him on his knees. Before he could rise, Bobby and Meg had caught Up with him.

"Where—are—the—kittens?" gasped Meg.

"In a bag," Charlie answered sullenly.

"You give them to us," said Bobby sternly. "If no one wants them, we can take them home."

"The man said to drown them—they're his cats and I guess he has a right to say what he wants done with them," Charlie retorted.

Meg thought about this a minute.

"I'll go see the man," she announced calmly. "Where are the kittens?"

Now whether Charlie really didn't want to drown the little, soft helpless kittens, or whether he was afraid of Bobby—perhaps his reasons were mixed as reasons often are—no one knew. But he said that Meg and Bobby could come home with him and he would give them the kittens.

The bag was in the woodshed and it was such a dirty old bag—made of canvas that looked as though it had been carried for years and never washed—that involuntarily Bobby held it at arms' length from him.

"They won't bite you," said Charlie scornfully, thinking he was afraid of the kittens—they could be heard mewing inside the bag.

"What is the man's name and where does he live?" Meg asked quietly.

"Ah, I was only fooling—he doesn't care what happens to those old cats," said Charlie. "It's Mr. Fritz—over on Beech Street. He's cross enough anyway without being asked a lot of extra questions."

But Meg was determined to see Mr. Fritz and she made Bobby go around to Beech Street with her.

"It's just as Charlie said—they are his kittens," she argued. "And of course if he says they have to be drowned they have to be: only we won't do it."

"Don't you want to look at them?" asked Bobby, swinging the bag gently.

Meg shook her head.

"Not if somebody has to drown them," she said.

Mr. Fritz lived in a large old-fashioned house, set back from the street. When the children rang the door bell a deaf woman who did all the housework for him—he was an old bachelor—came to the door.

"We don't want to buy anything," she declared, frowning at the bag Bobby was carrying.

"We're not selling anything—these are kittens," Bobby explained, but without raising his voice. He didn't know she was deaf.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Kittens!" Bobby repeated, a little more loudly. "Mr. Fritz's kittens."

"He wears gloves," said the maid crossly. "And my bread is in the oven and I can't be bothered."

Meg stood on tiptoe and shouted.

"Is Mr. Fritz home?" she cried.

To her dismay a deep voice somewhere back in the house answered her.

"That he is," it said. "Won't you come in?" and there stood Mr. Fritz himself, looking at her curiously.

Bobby with the bag and Meg with her dress box, stepped inside and the maid closed the door. That made the hall so dark that poor Bobby, unable to see where he was going, but moving ahead blindly, walked to the basement stairs and made the most fearful clatter as he lost his balance and fell half way. He managed to catch one arm around the banister rail and check his descent, but the bag of kittens went all the way.

"Bobby! Are you hurt?" Meg called fearfully.

"Bless me, child, I hope you haven't broken anything," said Mr. Fritz anxiously.

Bobby felt his way to the bottom of the stairs and found the bag.

"Not unless I smashed the kittens," he said cheerfully, toiling up again.

Mr. Fritz opened the door of a room at the back of the house and enough light came out to show Bobby and Meg how to go in. Once inside they found it was evidently Mr. Fritz's sitting room. It was rather untidy, but comfortable and warm, with books and papers spread about.

"Now what can I do for you?" said Mr. Fritz, looking at his visitors very kindly and trying not to show that he was surprised to see them.

"I'm Bobby Blossom," Bobby introduced himself, "and this is my sister Meg. We came to ask you if you would care if your kittens weren't drowned."

"Eh? My kittens—not drowned?" repeated Mr. Fritz. "But they are—I gave that Charlie—what's his name—Black, I gave Charlie Black fifty cents to drown them for me this afternoon."

Meg looked ready to cry. Any one that paid to have kittens drowned, must, of course, get what he paid for.

"He didn't say you paid him," Bobby said slowly. "Meg and I thought perhaps you wouldn't care and we could keep them."

"Are those the kittens in that bag?" asked Mr. Fritz. "Do you mean to tell me that worthless boy hasn't done anything with them? And he sends them back to me? Wait till I catch him!"

"Oh, he didn't send them!" Meg cried in quick alarm. "He told us he had them and Bobby and I wouldn't let him drown them. Then he said they were your kittens and you wanted them drowned. And of course you can do anything you want to with your kittens, but I thought you wouldn't mind if we kept them."

Mr. Fritz nodded his head several times.

"I see," he said at each nod. "I see—you want to save the kittens and let them grow up and howl on the back fences. Well, I think there are enough cats in this world already. But as long as I don't have to take care of the kittens, it makes no difference to me what becomes of them. You may have them, if you wish."

Meg thanked him and was ready to go, but Bobby had something else on his mind.

"Do you want that fifty cents back from Charlie Black?" he asked.

"You could get it for me, I suppose," Mr. Fritz said with a laugh. "No, Bobby, let him keep his fifty cents. After all, he earned it, for the stipulation was that he was to dispose of the kittens. I didn't say they must be drowned."

Mr. Fritz shook hands with Bobby and Meg and asked them to come and see him again. He went to the door with them, which was fortunate for the hall was so dark Meg was afraid Bobby would fall downstairs a second time, and watched them go down the gravel path.

"We'll have to hurry," said Bobby. "Mother will wonder where we are."

The twins saw them coming and their sharp eyes spied the bag the first thing.

"What have you got, Bobby?" shrieked Dot. "Bobby, what's in the bag?"

"You needn't tell the neighborhood," Bobby said a little crossly, for he was tired, "but kittens are in it."

"Kittens!" Twaddles shouted, leaping ahead to spread the news.

"Mother!" he called, racing into the house. "Oh, Mother, come and see the kittens Bobby has in a bag!"

Mother Blossom and Aunt Polly and Norah came into the hall and Bobby sat down on the rug, with Meg and the twins almost on top of him.

"They're four," he explained as he began to untie the string that was knotted around the bag. "Charlie Black was going to drown them for Mr. Fritz, but he said Meg could have them. Maybe they are pretty."

He turned down the bag and a black kitten walked out. Then a gray and white one. Then a yellow one and next a striped "tiger" kitten.

Norah started to laugh.

"Four, is it?" she giggled. "Then I must be seeing double, Bobby, for there's six already and—yes, here's another—that makes seven!"

Well, there they were—seven kittens, none especially fat and none especially pretty, all "just kittens," as Twaddles named them.

But Meg thought they were lovely and she was anxious to take them out to the garage and give them some warm milk. The garage was always chosen as a good place to feed stray animals, for the cement floor could be more easily washed than the linoleum that was the pride of Norah's heart in the kitchen.

"Meg, darling, we simply cannot keep all those kittens," Mother Blossom declared regretfully. "Seven kittens are a great many and I don't believe Annabel Lee will welcome so much company."

"But, Mother, we can't drown them!" said Meg, her eyes round with horror. "We have to take care of them."

"I think you children will have to find homes for them," Mother Blossom announced. "Think over all the folk you know and try to find homes for these homeless little cats. That will be something for you to do, too, Dot and Twaddles."

"I'm going to think now," said Twaddles, sitting down on the lowest step of the stairs.



CHAPTER XVI

WHAT TWADDLES THOUGHT ABOUT

"I'm going to think, too," Dot declared, sitting down beside Twaddles, to his great annoyance.

"You always talk," he complained, as Dot pushed him over toward the wall.

Meg and Bobby postponed their thoughts till they had taken the kittens out to the garage and fed them. They begged a piece of rug from Norah and an old box from Sam, and they made a comfortable bed.

When they came in from their labors, Twaddles was still sitting on the stair step, but Dot had disappeared.

"How's your brain working, Twaddles?" asked Bobby, as older brothers do.

"It's working," Twaddles answered soberly.

Norah said supper was ready at that moment, so there wasn't time to find out what Twaddles was thinking. And after supper came bedtime at its usual fast pace—the four little Blossoms were sure that something happened to the clock between supper and bedtime; the hands came unscrewed, or something, and went around twice as fast as they worked the rest of the day.

"We'll find homes for the kittens when we come home this afternoon," Meg promised at the breakfast table the next morning. "I've fed them, Mother, and can't Dot and Twaddles take them some milk this noon? Miss Mason wants us to stay and practice the songs for Thanksgiving."

Norah had put up a neat little lunch for Meg and another for Bobby and the twins were almost beside themselves with envy. Would the time ever come, they thought, when they could go to school and sometimes have to stay over the noon hour and not come home to lunch? They were sure there could be nothing more exciting, except the actual going to school, than taking one's lunch in a boy and eating it with a crowd of other hungry children.

"Let's go see the kittens," Twaddles suggested, as soon as Bobby and Meg had gone.

Dot trotted after him to the garage. They found Sam busily picking up little furry bodies and scolding under his breath.

"These blamed cats," he told the children, "don't know when they're well off. They keep climbing out of that box and first thing you know I'm going to step on one; then there will be a nice squalling."

Dot and Twaddles helped him stuff the kittens into the box and he pulled the rug over the top, saying that if it was dark enough inside, perhaps they would go to sleep.

"I have to take your father out to the foundry," said Sam, opening the big door. "Now see that I don't run over any live stock on my way out."

The twins watched him take the car and saw to it that no kittens were in his path. As soon as he had gone, Twaddles looked at Dot.

"Let you and me find homes for 'em," he said distinctly.

"Homes for the kittens?" Dot asked doubtfully.

"Of course. We can do it," declared Twaddles with magnificent confidence.

"Suppose people don't want them," Dot offered. "Lots of people have cats."

"Well, lots haven't," was Twaddles' reply to this argument. "We'll keep going till we find the folks who haven't any."

But Dot was not feeling ambitious that morning.

"They're awfully heavy to carry," she said, "and they cry."

Then Twaddles showed that he had spent much time and thought on his plan.

"We'll only carry one—for a sample!" he told her triumphantly. "A cat is a cat, isn't it? And we'll explain they have different colors but look just alike except for that. We'll go to different houses, the way Mr. Hambert does, and let folks order a kitten. Then we can take it to them."

"Mr. Hambert has samples!" cried Dot, beginning to understand. "Easter he has a nest and Christmas he has spun sugar Santa Clauses—and he only takes one. We can do it, can't we, Twaddles?"

"Didn't I just say we could?" demanded Twaddles. "Which one is the best sample?"

They hastily upset the box and the kittens rolled out on the floor. Dot wanted to take a black one and Twaddles leaned toward the yellow one, so, not without some argument, they finally compromised on the "tiger" kitten.

Mother Blossom and Aunt Polly were busy in the house, and when Twaddles and Dot came in to get their hats and coats and explained they thought they could find a home for a kitten, no one objected to their going out. They could go anywhere in Oak Hill with perfect safety and they knew just about every one in the town.

"We won't say anything about finding homes for all of the kittens," said Twaddles as he stuffed the "sample" inside his coat, "because if we can't get folks to take them, Bobby and Meg will laugh. Where'll we go first, Dot?"

"The grocery store," said Dot, who couldn't get Mr. Hambert and his methods of doing business out of her mind.

"Grocery stores don't want cats," Twaddles argued. Nevertheless he turned up the street that would lead him to the main store in Oak Hill, where kind Mr. Hambert was a clerk when he wasn't out delivering orders in the country.

"They do, too," shot back Dot. "They need cats to keep the mice away—Meg said so once. Anyway, we can ask 'em."

There were a number of people in the store lined up before the counter and the twins had to await their turn. They were so interested in watching one of the clerks slice ham with a machine, that when Mr. Hambert came up to them, smiling, and asked what he could do for them, they jumped.

"We don't want to buy anything," said Twaddles hesitatingly.

"Then you must be selling something," Mr. Hambert laughed good-naturedly.

"No—but we came to see if you didn't want a cat," Twaddles announced a bit jerkily. "We—we brought you a sample!" and he pulled the little kitten from his coat and held it out to the astonished grocery clerk.

"Good gracious!" said Mr. Hambert "Are you selling cats?"

"We're not selling them," Twaddles insisted. "We're getting homes for them. This is a sample."

Mr. Hambert began to laugh and so did several of the customers who had been listening.

"Come, now, Hambert, you do need a cat," said the man who was waiting for the sliced ham. "Didn't you tell me last week your old Minnie died? Now here's her successor. All ready delivered at your door and no trouble for you at all."

"I can't take cats," Mr. Hambert retorted. "Tell you what you do, Twaddles, go into the office and see what Mr. Morris has to say."

Mr. Morris was the owner of the store and he had a desk in a small private office far back from the counters. Twaddles marched down the aisle and Dot after him. They found Mr. Morris reading a newspaper and looking as though he might not be very busy. He smiled when he saw them.

"Hello!" he said, "what brings you calling?"

"Don't you want a nice kitten, Mr. Morris?" asked Twaddles persuasively. "It will grow up and catch mice and rats, and it won't need much to eat. If Minnie is dead, you really need a cat, don't you?"

Well, it took several minutes to make the grocery man understand what they were trying to do, and then he laughed and they had to wait till he wiped his eyes and could speak plainly. But, after all this, Mr. Morris said he would be very glad to take the kitten and it could live in the store and would be sure of a comfortable home.

"But we can't leave this one—it's a sample," Dot explained earnestly. "We'll bring you your kitten this afternoon—it will be just like this one, only a different color."

"Are you sure it will be as good a mouser and as sweet-tempered and as pretty?" demanded Mr. Morris. "I wouldn't want to be disappointed."

The twins assured him that all the kittens were lovely and that gave him another thought. He wanted to know how many there were.

"Seven," said Twaddles, "and Mother said seven are too many to keep."

"I agree with your mother," Mr. Morris said. "And I believe, if you go to see my sister, Mrs. Tracy, that she will be glad to take a kitten; she's expecting her little grandson to come for a visit next week and she would be glad to have a pet ready for him. You know where Mrs. Tracy lives, don't you? Over on Hammond Square?"

Twaddles and Dot knew, and they hurried over to Hammond Square eagerly. Sure enough, Mrs. Tracy was glad to have a kitten, and like her brother, she wanted to keep the "sample." But when matters were explained to her and she understood that she could have her kitten that afternoon, she was quite satisfied.

"That makes two," said Dot, as they went down the steps.

Finding homes for the five other kittens wasn't so easy. The twins went to every house where they knew any one and some of these people already had cats and others didn't want any cats. But they listened politely, though they always laughed, and some of them told the twins of friends who might be glad to have a kitten.

The poor little "sample" was growing quite rough looking and frowsy, from being pulled in and out of Twaddles' coat so many times, and it was almost noon when they had disposed of all but one cat.

"Let's go ask Miss Alder," suggested Dot as they passed a handsome house set in a circle of evergreen trees.

"She'll chase us," Twaddles argued. "She can't stand children—they make her nervous."

Dot had heard this, too—Miss Alder was a wealthy and elderly woman who lived alone except for two maids. She didn't have much to do with her neighbors and she had nothing at all to do with the children in Oak Hill. She didn't like them and most of them were afraid of her.

"You needn't come, if you don't want to, but I'm going to ask her," said Dot, turning in at the path which led to the white doorway of the Alder house.

"Well—I'll come—you'll need to show her the sample," Twaddles murmured, wondering what made his knees feel so queer.



CHAPTER XVII

MISS ALDER'S HOUSE

Dot rang the bell and waited quietly, but Twaddles kept hopping up and down the steps. He was down, when the door opened suddenly and he was so afraid Dot would go in and leave him outside that he rushed up the steps, two at a time, and the maid nearly shut the door in his face.

"Go away, boy!" she said distinctly. "We don't allow boys around here."

This was discouraging, but Dot refused to be dismayed.

"I'm a girl," she stated firmly. "Could I see Miss Alder?"

"Well—I'll ask," the maid answered. "Wait a minute." And she closed the door.

"Mother says it is very rude to keep any one waiting at the door," whispered Dot. "She always asks 'em in."

"You can come in," the maid announced, opening the door before Twaddles could answer Dot. "But the boy will have to wait."

"He has to come, too—he has the sample," said Dot, who had no intention of going into a strange house alone.

"Are you selling something?" the maid demanded. "It won't do you any good to see Miss Alder if you're selling something; she won't look at samples."

"For goodness' sake, Agnes, are you going to stand there at the door all day?" said some one. "Either come in and close the door or go outside and finish your conversation."

Dot glanced up and saw a face peering over the maid's shoulder. She saw dark eyes and white hair and a rather grim mouth. But Dot smiled her friendly little smile and spoke clearly.

"How do you do, Miss Alder?" she said, as composedly as Meg would have said it. "Don't you want a little kitten? We're trying to find homes for them and we have—all but one."

Now Miss Alder liked cats and she found herself liking Dot. But she couldn't unbend all at once.

"Are you sure your feet are clean?" she asked crisply. "Well, then, come in, both of you. I can't stand all this cold air. Come into the sitting room and tell me what you call it you are doing."

Twaddles and Dot followed her into a pleasant sunny room, with a fireplace in which a fire was merrily blazing. Miss Alder's chair was by the window and she pointed to a sofa nearby.

"Sit down there and keep your feet on that rug," she directed the twins. "If there is one thing I cannot stand it is to have my floors tracked up. Now what were you trying to tell me about a kitten?"

Twaddles pulled the little tiger kitten out of his coat and held it toward her.

"That's the sample," he said gravely. "We had seven of them—Meg and Bobby brought them home, because Mr. Fritz was going to have them drowned."

"And you've been going around, trying to get homes for them?" said Miss Alder approvingly. "Why, I think that is very kind of you. Could you find people who would give them homes?"

Twaddles told her where they had been and what the people had said, and all the time he talked Miss Adler was stroking the kitten which she had taken on her lap. She asked a great many questions and she did not laugh at all. She was most serious, and when she had heard the whole story, she said that she thought they were just as good as they could be.

"Most children wouldn't go to so much trouble," she said. "Why, you are friends worth having—and I should like a kitten very much indeed. Why don't you let me keep this one?"

Twaddles looked uncertainly at Dot.

"It's the sample," he said uneasily.

"You mean it was the sample," Miss Alder corrected. "If you have six kittens promised, you don't need any more samples; and if you leave this one here with me, why, that will be one delivered and will save you that much extra trouble. Besides, I particularly like tiger cats."

The twins saw how sensible this was, and they agreed to leave the kitten. Then Miss Alder showed them her pets—she had canaries and goldfish and a white poodle dog who seemed to like the kitten very much, though it humped up its back and spit at him and would have nothing to do with him.

"They'll be friends in less than a week," Miss Alder declared comfortably.

The noon whistle reminded Dot and Twaddles that they would be late for lunch and they hurried off, but not before Miss Alder had asked them to come and see her again.

"You'll want to see how the kitten grows," she told them.

Meg and Bobby were home from school before the twins arrived and the family were just sitting down to lunch. They had explained to their mother and their Aunt Polly that Miss Mason had put off the practicing of the Thanksgiving songs until the next day.

"So we ate the lunch that Norah put up for us at recess, Mother; and we can eat the regular lunch now," said Meg.

"The kittens are one short," said Bobby as soon as the twins came in sight. "Meg and I went out and counted them."

"Where have you children been all the morning?" Mother Blossom asked Dot and Twaddles. "You look excited, too. Is anything the matter?"

The twins were bursting with news—any one could see that.

"All you have to do, Meg," Twaddles informed her casually, "is to deliver the kittens; we have it all fixed."

"Deliver them? Deliver them where?" said Meg, staring.

"Oh, around," Twaddles returned airily. "Dot and I have been out and found homes for them all."

"Not the whole seven?" said Bobby, staring in turn. "Seven homes, Twaddles? Who wants seven kittens?"

Mother Blossom looked at Aunt Polly and laughed.

"Do you wonder Daddy says he doesn't know what to expect when he comes home at night?" she said. "Twaddles and Dot, will you please stop talking in riddles and tell us where you have been and what you have done?"

Thus encouraged, the twins began to talk at once, and though it was difficult to understand them the family finally managed to learn what they had done.

"My goodness, I call that a good morning's work," said Aunt Polly at last. "To find places for seven kittens! Why, Dot and Twaddles, there isn't anything you can't do, if you stick to a plan as you have to this."

"But one kitten is lost," Meg pointed out. "There are only six left."

"That was the sample," said Twaddles calmly. "We left it at Miss Alder's house, because she likes tiger cats."

And then Bobby and Meg were surprised again, to hear that the twins had been to Miss Alder's house, and they had to hear what had happened there and what she had said to them.

"Will you help us take them around this afternoon?" asked Dot. "We can do it faster if we all go; they are so squirmy to carry."

Of course Bobby and Meg promised to help deliver the cats and they hurried home from school to keep their promise. As the houses where the kittens were to go were pretty well scattered—the twins had worked hard and they had covered most of Oak Hill that morning—it was decided that Dot and Twaddles should take three of the kittens and Meg and Bobby the other three. The twins were to go to the grocery store and two houses near there, including Mrs. Tracy's, while Meg and Bobby would deliver the cats at the other end of the town.

"You never know what those children are going to do," said Meg as she and Bobby walked down Spruce Avenue, "but I am awfully glad they found homes for the kittens; Mr. Fritz will be glad, too. I don't believe he wanted them drowned, but he didn't know what to do with them."

Bobby nodded absently. He was watching some one further up the street.

"That looks like Charlie Black," he said. "I don't want to pass him when we're carrying these kittens—he might try to start an argument and hurt them; let's go down this next street and cut around the block."

Meg was willing, for she knew that Charlie Black—who was on his roller skates again, might try to snatch a kitten, and would certainly do his best to torment them in some way.

The people who had promised the cats a home were very glad to see the kittens, and Meg and Bobby felt glad to think that the little creatures would be sure of care and attention. Meg was planning to tell Annabel Lee all about it that night, when around the corner came Charlie Black and almost skated into them before he saw them.

"You take the kitten, Meg," said Bobby hurriedly. "I'll wait for you."

There was only one kitten left and Meg ran across the street with it and up the steps of Mrs. Anderson's house.

She had to wait a few minutes for some one to answer the doorbell and a few minutes longer were required to explain to Mrs. Anderson's sister, who had not been at home that morning when the twins called, and then Meg ran back to rejoin Bobby.

"What are you doing, peddling cats?" asked Charlie disagreeably.

"We're not drowning them," Bobby replied.

"Think you're smart, don't you?" said Charlie. "Well, Bobby Blossom, you're not so smart as you seem to think—catch me, if you can," and he made a dive at the little basket in which Meg had carried the kittens.

He twisted it from her hands and shot off down the street, Bobby after him. But Charlie had a good start and as the pavement was cement and exceptionally smooth, he seemed to be having things his own way for the first two blocks. Then he turned his head to see how close Bobby was and an ash box tripped him.

"Go away!" he whined as Bobby caught up with him, Meg following closely on his heels. "Go away—don't you dare touch me!"

Bobby leaned over him and took the basket, handing it to Meg.

"You get up and let me punch you!" he said hotly, but Charlie was in no haste to get to his feet.

"Let me alone," he cried. "You let me alone and I'll tell you something, Bobby! Honest I will. I'll tell you who spilled the ink on Miss Mason's book."

Meg heard and almost dropped her basket.



CHAPTER XVIII

TIM ROON IS FOUND OUT

Bobby continued to stand over Charlie Black, ready to pounce on him should he try to jump and run.

"Honest, Bobby," Charlie whined again. "I'll tell you who spoiled the book."

"Well, who did?" demanded Bobby gruffly.

"You won't hit me? Promise," said Charlie, very much frightened.

"All right, I won't hit you," promised Bobby. "Who did it? You?"

Charlie Black scrambled to his feet.

"I'll get killed if I'm found out," he declared, "but Tim Roon did it, Bobby. I saw him. He spilled ink all over it, 'cause he was sore at Miss Mason. An' he wouldn't let me tell."

Bobby and Meg were so excited that they hardly knew when Charlie Black skated away, after insisting that Tim Roon would certainly murder him if he ever discovered that he had told the secret.

"Tell? Of course we'll tell everybody," said Meg, dancing along beside Bobby, who had taken the box from her again. "Oh, hurry up, Bobby. You're so slow, and we must let Mother know."

At home the news was received with great rejoicing, and the twins had to relieve their feelings by banging on the dining-room gong till Norah descended on them and confiscated the padded stick. But Bobby was rather sober through all the noise, and presently Mother Blossom perceived this.

"I don't think it's fair to tell," said Bobby, when she questioned him. "I'll get Tim Roon into trouble, and Charlie Black, too. Course I'd like Miss Mason to know I didn't do it, but I hate to make such a fuss."

"Isn't he silly, Mother?" demanded Meg. "If you don't tell, Bobby Blossom, I'm going to school before you're up and tell every one I meet."

"Now, Meg!" remonstrated Mother Blossom. "This is Bobby's affair, remember. But, Son, you shouldn't feel as you do. Every one who heard that you were accused of spoiling the book has a right to know that you have been absolved. I will write Miss Mason a note and explain it fully, and then Tim and Charlie will have to take the consequences. Any boy that will stand aside and let another be unjustly accused deserves whatever he gets."

Mother Blossom's cheeks were quite pink and her blue eyes had little sparks in them, just as Bobby's did sometimes when he was angry.

"Mother is right," declared Father Blossom, who had come home early and had heard the story from Aunt Polly, Meg, the twins, and Norah before he had taken off his overcoat. "Don't fret about Tim and Charlie—those young scamps need a couple of interviews with Mr. Carter if they are not to grow up utterly reckless."

So the next morning Bobby carried a note to Miss Mason, and when she had read it she actually hugged him and begged his pardon as simply as if he had been a grown-up friend. She wanted to tell the whole class how mistaken she had been, but Bobby nearly fainted at the thought and begged her not to.

"I'll tell them one by one, then," announced Miss Mason, who, it seemed, could not do enough to make up for her unkindness.

Before the morning session was called nearly every child in the room knew that Bobby Blossom had not touched Miss Mason's book but that Tim Roon was the culprit. Tim and Charlie had been sent down to the principal's office by Miss Mason before assembly, and Miss Wright had telephoned for Mr. Carter. He came over at once, and Tim and Charlie spent an unhappy hour with him.

"You're both cowards," he told them hotly. "I'd have you up before the class to confess your underhanded scheme if I didn't know that it would embarrass Bobby more than it would you. The school law won't let me keep you longer than an hour at night, but every night for a month you'll stay an hour after school. And, Tim, here's a note for your father. Don't try to get out of delivering it. I'll call him up at six o'clock to-night and ask if he has received it."

Tim gave his father the note that night, and something very serious happened to him. More than that, he had to work every Saturday for a long, long time in his father's store to help pay the money his father insisted on sending to Miss Mason. Of course it was impossible to replace the book, for the autographs could never be collected again, but Mr. Roon was determined to pay Miss Mason the sum her friend had spent for the book. It was a great deal of money, but "the Roons always pay up," declared Mr. Roon, "and if it takes Tim the rest of his lazy life, he's got to work out the money."

Soon every one but Tim forgot the book, for the Thanksgiving Day exercises were drawing nearer and nearer. The Blossoms always had wonderful times Thanksgivings, and this year, with Aunt Polly with them, they meant to have the best holiday yet.

Such boxes and barrels as came down from Brookside Farm, packed by Jud and his father, and reminding the four little Blossoms of the good times they had had that summer. There were red apples and green apples, yellow pumpkins, potatoes, turnips and beautiful crisp celery, black walnuts and butternuts, wonderful for cake and candy and what Dot called "plain eating," and, most wonderful of all, two great plump turkeys.

"Those are some you saw running around, Twaddles," Aunt Polly told him as he helped her unpack the box. "Remember how they looked? You thought they were chickens."

The morning before Thanksgiving Day fresh eggs and butter came by parcels post.

"If you'd only sent a tablecloth and a few forks, Polly," laughed Mother Blossom, "I shouldn't have had a thing to do about getting dinner."

Meg and Bobby couldn't think much about the dinner. Wasn't this the day they were to recite?

"Wouldn't it be too awful," said Meg, at the breakfast table, "if when I got up on the platform I should forget every word?"

"But you won't," Mother Blossom assured her. "You'll remember every word. See if you don't. You come home to lunch, don't you, children, and get dressed?"

"Yes. And then we have to be back by half-past one," said Bobby importantly. "The exercises begin at two. Where's my bag of apples?"

The children of the Oak Hill school every year brought gifts of food to the Thanksgiving Day exercises which were afterward distributed among the poor families of the town. Bobby took apples this year and Meg was to take two jars of home-made preserves.

They hurried through the morning at school, rushed home and found a devoted family on hand to help them dress.

"There were such lots of things brought," chattered Meg, as her mother buttoned her into the new white frock and Aunt Polly tied her hair-ribbon. "They liked your potatoes, Dot."

"And my popcorn?" asked Twaddles anxiously.

The twins, not to be cheated out of the fun, had insisted on sending Thanksgiving gifts, too.

"Yes, they thought that was great," said Bobby, shining and neat in his new suit. "Hurry, Meg."

"Come early and get good seats," called Meg as they trotted off.

At exactly two o'clock the whole school marched into the assembly room and took the seats reserved for them. The first and second grades were seated on the platform, because experience had taught the teachers that some of the younger children invariably fell either up or down the platform steps if they had anything at all to do with them. On one side of the platform the school committee sat, headed by Rufus Hornbeck.

Bobby's recitation followed the first song, and he and the five boys with him breathed a great sigh of relief when they were through and went back to their seats free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

Then came more songs and more recitations, and then finally it was Meg's turn. She had discovered where her father and mother and Aunt Polly and the twins were sitting, and when she came out to speak she looked straight at them and smiled. And the five verses were as straight and clear in her mind as though she were reciting them to Mother Blossom in the sitting room at home.

"What a dear little girl, and what a pretty dress!" said an old lady sitting back of the Blossoms, as Meg made her little bow at the end and the room broke into hearty applause.

Twaddles turned around to beam approvingly at the old lady.

"That's my sister," he informed her.

Rufus Hornbeck and two others of the committee had to make rather long, tiresome speeches, and when that was over the audience joined in singing "My Country, 'tis of thee," and the exercises were over.

"Oh, look!" exclaimed Bobby, as they opened the school door and stepped out into the street.

It was almost dark, for the days were fast shortening, and a fine, light snow was falling softly. Already the ground and walks were white, and the fences were taking queer shapes.

"Snow!" chorused the four little Blossoms in ecstasy. "Let's ask Sam to mend the sleds to-night."

The snow fell all that night and all the next day and people said it was an old-fashioned white Thanksgiving. An old-fashioned white winter it proved to be, too, and if you want to hear what fun the four little Blossoms had playing in the white snow, you will have to read the next book about them, called "Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun."

"If we only had new sleds," sighed Bobby. The sleds they had were somewhat old and broken.

"We might get new ones," said Meg hopefully.

"I'm going to learn to skate this winter," remarked Twaddles.

"So am I," added his twin.

And here, for a time, we will leave the four little Blossoms and say good-by.

THE END