ing hurt 'em," protested Bobby earnestly. "Go on,
put 'em in--please, Meg."

Meg seldom could resist anything Bobby asked of her, and Dot was
always ready to follow her older sister's lead. So Geraldine and Mary
Maud were placed inside the tower of chairs and stools and rugs that
Bobby and Twaddles called their house, and the architect set himself
to work to construct the chimney.

The children who were so busily employed in the pleasant living-room
this rainy September afternoon were known to all their friends as "the
four little Blossoms."

There was a Father Blossom and a Mother Blossom, of course, and when
you were introduced to the children separately--though the four were
usually to be found, as Norah, the good-natured maid, said, "right in
a bunch"--you met Robert Hayward Blossom, always known as Bobby, seven
years old and as devoted a brother to six-year-old Margaret Alice as
you would ever find. Margaret was much better known as Meg.

Then came the twins, Dot and Twaddles. And a pair they were, into
everything and remarkable for the ease with which they managed to get
out of scrapes for which they were generally responsible. The twins
were four years old, dark-haired and dark-eyed, while Bobby and Meg
had blue eyes and yellow hair.

The Blossoms lived in the pretty town of Oak Hill, and they knew
nearly every one. Indeed the children had never been away from Oak
Hill till the visit they had made to their Aunt Polly, about which you
may have read in the book called "Four Little Blossoms at Brookside
Farm." They had spent the summer with Aunt Polly, and had made many
new friends and learned a great deal about animals. Meg, especially,
loved all dumb creatures. And now that you are acquainted with the
four little Blossoms, we must get back to that chimney.

"The umbrella rack will do," suggested Twaddles suddenly.

He ran out into the hall and dragged the rack in.

"That's fine," said Bobby enthusiastically. "Come on, Twaddles, help
me lift it up."

Strangers always thought that Twaddles was such an odd name. Perhaps
it was; and certainly no one knew how the small boy had acquired it.
"Twaddles" he was though, and he himself almost forgot that he had a
"real" name, which was Arthur Gifford. His twin was never called
Dorothy, either, but always "Dot." Dorothy Anna Blossom was the whole
of Dot's name.

Twaddles now heaved and tugged, trying to help Bobby lift the heavy
umbrella rack. He was elated that