were never coming," grumbled Twaddles. "Cake, Meg?"

"One for you. One for Dot," said Meg dividing, and giving Bobby his.
"Now aren't you sorry you were cross?"

"He wasn't," Dot assured her; the twins had a way of standing up for
each other. "He was just afraid the others would use up all the snow
'fore we got there."

Really, there didn't seem to be much danger of that. Wayne Place hill
was alive with coasters when the four little Blossoms reached it. The
snow was still deep and soft on the sides, and packed hard and smooth
in the center of the road.

"Here comes a bob!" cried Bobby, as the children began their walk up.
"Look how she goes! Dave Saunders is steering."

The big sled shot past them, filled with high-school boys and girls.

"Ours is just as nice," said sunny-tempered Meg, catching Twaddles in a
wistful stare.

CHAPTER IV

WHEN THE BOBSLED UPSET

"Our sleds are ever so much nicer," declared Bobby sturdily. "Bobs are
no fun, Twaddles. You can't see a thing 'less you're steering. Come
on now; we're going down."

Bobby took his place on the sled, Twaddles grasped the belt of his coat
tightly, and Meg pushed. Away they went!

"Hurry up, Dot," cried Meg excitedly. "Let's get down before they
start to walk up."

"Can you steer it?" asked Dot cautiously.

"What a question!" Meg was indignant. "Didn't I steer it all day
Saturday, silly?"

But Dot, for some reason, did not want to coast. To tell the truth,
Meg had narrowly missed a tree Saturday afternoon, and after that Dot
had shut her eyes tight every time they went down the hill.

"You go too fast," she complained now.

Meg looked at her little sister, genuinely surprised.

"Why, you have to go fast," she said. "You can't stop the sled after
you get to going. And if you did all the others would run into you.
Come on, Dot, you'll like it after the first ride."

By this time Bobby and Twaddles, rosy and panting, had reached the top
of the hill.

"The snow's packed fine," said Bobby enthusiastically. "What are you
waiting for, Meg? Feet cold?"

"No, they're warm enough," answered Meg, absently stamping her feet in
the snow to prove it. "Dot's afraid."

"I am not!" cried Dot indignantly. "I just said Meg went too fast."

"And she wanted to know if I could steer," said Meg scornfully.
"There's nothing to steering, is there, Bobby?"

"Well, of course, you have to be careful," answered Bobby. "Suppose I
take Do