XVIII THE END OF THE VACATION 173

FOUR LITTLE BLOSSOMS AT BROOKSIDE FARM

CHAPTER I

THE RESCUE OF PHILIP

"Meg!"

The little girl curled up in the window-seat did not move.

"Meg, you know Mother said we were to go before four o'clock, and it's
half-past three now. You'll wait till the twins come in, and then
they'll want to go, too." Bobby Blossom looked anxiously at his
sister.

Meg put down her book and untangled her feet from the window
cushions.

"I'm coming," she promised. "I never do get a chapter all read, Bobby.
Where's my hat? I see it. I'll get it!"

Meg's hat was on the lawn outside where she had dropped it, and now
she raised the screen and tumbled through the window to the ground.
It wasn't far to tumble, and Meg had done it so often she was sure of
landing safely.

"Norah says no lady goes out of the house through a window," giggled
Bobby, tumbling after Meg and closing the screen carefully. Bobby was
always careful to leave everything as he found it.

Meg giggled, too.

"I don't care, long as I grow up to be a lady like Mother," she
asserted. "Let's hurry, Bobby, and perhaps we can stop at the
library."

The children had reached the two stone posts at the foot of the lawn
when a loud shriek halted them.

"Meg Blossom, you said I could go! Wait for me!"

Down the slightly sloping lawn hurried a short, thick-set little girl
with dark eyes and hair and the reddest cheeks you ever saw. She
carried a doll whose blue eyes opened and shut snappily with every
jump her small mother took. This was Dot, Meg's little sister.

"You said I could go," panted Dot, when she caught up with Meg and
Bobby. "Wait for Twaddles, he's coming. He wants to take the kiddie
car."

"I told you so," scolded Bobby. "I never went uptown in my life all
you children didn't want to tag along. You've got grease on your
dress, Dot."

"Sam was cleaning the car," said Dot serenely. "I guess I brushed
against the grease can. It won't show when I'm sitting down. There's
Twaddles."

Bumping its way over the green grass came a kiddie car with a small
boy astride it.

"I'm all ready," he beamed. "Come on, Bobby."

"You can't take that kiddie car," announced Bobby firmly. "Mother said
this letter was to go in the four o'clock mail and we've got to hurry.
If you and Dot want to go, you'll have to walk fast."

Twaddles usually minded Bobby. He promptly surrendered the