'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 yo