"It was her Aunt Dorothy locket," explained Dot, for Meg was already on her knees brushing the snow away. "Mother said she should take it off, and now it's gone."

CHAPTER V

MEG IN TROUBLE

"I did mean to take it off," protested Meg, frantically digging in the snow about the bobsled. "I went upstairs to put it in the box, and then Norah called me about the cakes. Oh, dear, what will Mother say?"

The news soon spread among the others that little Meg Blossom had lost her gold locket, and all the boys and girls turned to with a will to help her search for it. They looked up the road a way, because some thought the locket might have flown off before the sled upset; they hunted over every inch of the ground where they had been spilled out, for Dave was sure it must be there. But though they looked in possible and impossible places, no sign of the dainty gold locket with the turquoise forget-me-nots and the diamond dewdrops in their centers could the children find.

"Half-past five," announced Dave presently. "Awfully sorry, Meg, but your locket must be lost in the snow. It's too dark and too late to hunt any more now. You run along home and don't worry; maybe you'll get another one next Christmas."

"He doesn't know that this was great Aunt Dorothy's," said Meg sadly.

A very solemn little procession turned in at the Blossom front gate, for Dot and Twaddles were depressed, too. Bobby was towing both sleds and looked as sober as a judge.

"How late you are!" Aunt Polly, reading by the fireplace in the living-room, called to them as she heard the front door open. "Your mother began to worry about you. Is the coasting good?"

"Yes, I guess so," answered Bobby vaguely.

Twaddles sat down on the floor to pull off his rubber boots.

"Meg lost her locket!" he announced, seeing no reason why bad news should be concealed, especially when he was not to blame for it.

Mother Blossom came downstairs just in time to hear this.

"Meg lost her locket!" she repeated. "Not great Aunt Dorothy's? Oh, Meg, and I told you not to wear it out coasting!"

Poor Meg's tears came faster.

"I did mean to take it off," she sobbed. "An' then Norah called me and the twins were in a hurry, and Bobby wanted his cap, and I forgot about the locket. My darling little gold locket!"

Aunt Polly had come out into the hall, and now Father Blossom opened the front door to find Mother Blossom sitting on the last stair-step, Meg crying in her lap, and the rest of the family standing about with serious faces.

"h.e.l.lo, anything happened?" he asked anxiously. "Is Meg sick?"

"She lost her locket," answered Dot.

"Well, well, that's too bad," said Father Blossom sympathetically.

"Don't cry like that, Daughter. No locket is worth all those tears."

"Mother," confided Twaddles impartially, "is scolding her."

"Twaddles Blossom, march upstairs and get ready for supper," said Mother Blossom, half sternly, half smilingly. "I'm not scolding Meg.

I want her to realize, though, that forgetting is a poor excuse, and that no matter how sorry we are after something has happened it is too late to do the right thing then."

"I'm so hungry," declared Dot, who couldn't bear to see Meg in trouble.

"Couldn't we eat pretty soon?"

Mother Blossom went upstairs with Meg and helped her bathe her eyes, and at supper every one was careful not to mention the lost locket.

Meg wasn't scolded any more, but every time she saw the empty blue velvet box in her bureau drawer she was reminded of her carelessness.

Aunt Polly said nothing at all, but Meg wondered if she was sorry she had given it to such a heedless girl. Meg thought a good deal about the many "oldest daughters" who had kept the locket safely for her.

"We'll go and look for it after school," Bobby promised the next day; and though they did, they found no trace of it.

That night it snowed again, and Sam and Philip--Philip always a.s.sisted at cleaning the walks--had their work to do over again.

"Sleigh bells!" exclaimed Bobby, as the children were in the hall putting on their things for the walk to school. "Some one's calling."

He ran to look out of the dining-room window.

"Mother, it's the feed-store man," he shouted. "He's got a sleigh.

Can we go?"

Mother Blossom stepped to the door. The "feed-store man" was Mr.

Wright, and the four little Blossoms knew him very well.

"Morning!" They heard him greet Mother Blossom. "Nice winter weather we're having. Anybody going to school this morning? I'm driving around that way."

Meg and Bobby danced out on the front porch.

"Take us?" they cried excitedly. "We're all ready."

"Sure, I'll take you," was the hearty response. "Send Dot and Twaddles along, too. I'm going to the station and back, and I'll drop you at the school house and take them on with me. I'll have them back inside an hour, Mrs. Blossom."

Mother Blossom said Dot and Twaddles could go, and in another minute they were climbing into the sleigh, which was a low box wagon on runners, drawn by two lively bay horses.

The twins sat down cozily in the straw that covered the floor on the sleigh, but Bobby rode up on the seat with Mr. Wright, and Meg did, too. She usually did everything Bobby did.

"Had any s...o...b..ll fights yet?" asked Mr. Wright, his breath coming out of his mouth like white smoke.

"No. We've been coasting," replied Bobby, "but we haven't had a s...o...b..ll fight. Miss Wright won't let you throw s...o...b..a.l.l.s near the school. She's afraid you'll break a window."

Miss Wright, the vice-princ.i.p.al of the Oak Hill primary school, was the feed-store man's cousin.

"That so?" he asked interestedly. "Well, now, I'll have to speak to Cousin Lelia. When I was a boy and went to school we had regular s...o...b..ll fights. Built forts, you know, and chose a captain for each side and had real exciting times. You tell her you won't throw toward the school, and I shouldn't be a bit surprised if she let you build forts in the school yard and have a good battle."

"The snow's fine there," said Meg, catching Mr. Wright's enthusiasm.

"It hasn't been touched since the first storm, only where the janitor dug out the walks. I'd love to have a s...o...b..ll fight."

"Girls don't s...o...b..ll fight, do they?" Bobby was quite scandalized, and appealed to Mr. Wright.

"Well, now, I don't believe they did when we were boys," admitted the feed-store man slowly. "But times have changed, you know. I should say that the side that lets girls have a place stands the best chance of winning this s...o...b..ll fight you're planning."

"Can we stay?" begged Twaddles and Dot, who had overheard.