"It's getting dark," he quavered.

It was, too, a shadowy gray dusk there in the woods.

"I guess it's only 'cause there's so many trees," said Meg cheerfully.

"It can't be dark out in the fields yet. I don't believe Jud has even started to milk."

They took up Dot again and went ahead, but it grew more and more difficult to follow the path.

"Here's where we were when you stopped to get your breath," declared Twaddles positively as they came into an open s.p.a.ce. "I 'member that rotten log on the ground."

It was true. They had been walking in a circle!

"What's that?" cried Meg, starting up in sudden fright.

The twins clung to her, hiding their faces in her skirt.

"I saw something move--over there in those bushes," whispered Bobby.

"Is it--a--a bear?" asked Meg softly.

But Dot heard her.

"It's a bear!" she shrieked. "Twaddles, Meg, Bobby, come quick! It's a bear!"

Something bounded out of the bushes and leaped upon them with shrill, sharp barks.

"Spotty!" chorused the children. "You dear, darling old Spotty! Where did you come from?"

Spotty was apparently as glad to see them, and in his way tried to tell them so. He jumped up and down, barked excitedly and licked their hands and faces over and over.

"Say, I'll bet you Spotty knows the way home!" Bobby jumped to his feet as this thought came to him. "Spotty, show us the way home, that's a good dog. Home, Spotty!"

Spotty wagged his tail heartily and barked once. Then he rushed a little way ahead and turned to look at the children.

"Come on," he seemed to say.

"He does know," agreed Meg excitedly. "Put your shoes on, Dot. All take hold of hands and hurry!"

They were in such haste they put the left shoe on Dot's right foot and the right one on her left, but she never even noticed it. Taking hold of hands, the four little Blossoms scurried through the dark woods, for it was pitch dark now, after Spotty. The dog kept just a little way ahead, and now and then he barked as if to tell them that everything was all right.

It was not easy walking in the dark, and they tripped and stumbled over tree roots and unsuspected stones. But at last they came out into the open. The stars were shining overhead, and it was night.

"Where are we?" asked Meg in wonder. "This isn't the brook pasture."

"I see the gate light!" cried Bobby suddenly.

CHAPTER X

THE BLOSSOMS GO BERRYING

Sure enough, ahead of them twinkled the pretty ornamental light that Aunt Polly had lighted on dark nights to show where the driveway went through the gates.

"We're in back of the house!" cried Meg. "See, that's the kitchen window where the white curtain is. Don't things look different at night?"

"h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo!" came Jud's clear call. "Bobby, Meg, is that you?"

Then as Bobby answered him, they heard Jud shouting:

"All right, folks, they've come. I told you they were all right."

Peter and Jud and a neighbor's boy came running toward the children, swinging lanterns, and followed by Mrs. Peter Apgar and Aunt Polly and Linda. Such a time as there was, and such a hugging and kissing and explaining!

"When you didn't come home to supper, I began to worry," said dear Aunt Polly, carrying Dot, big girl as she was. Peter had picked up Meg, and Jud had shouldered Twaddles, while Bobby kept running beside them.

"You must be starved," was Linda's greeting. "We've got fried chicken and currant jelly, too."

And though it was late, Aunt Polly was sure that fried chicken would hurt no one, and while the hungry Blossoms ate, she sat by and listened to what had happened to them in the woods.

"Why, darlings," she cried over and over, "Auntie will buy you other books and toys, but I couldn't possibly buy your mother other children if anything happened to you. Look at Dot's feet; the poor child must have walked miles. And her face and hands are terribly scratched."

Directly after supper the tired children were ready for bed, and Linda and Aunt Polly undressed them and bathed the sore little feet and put soothing cold cream on sunburned, scratched little faces.

The summer weeks flew merrily by, and when a rainy afternoon came and Aunt Polly suggested that the children should write to their father and mother, the Blossoms discovered that they really had a good deal to tell.

"I'll begin, 'cause I'm the oldest and I can write in pencil," said Bobby. "Then Meg can print, and I'll write what Dot and Twaddles tell me to. I guess they will like that kind of letter."

Aunt Polly thought so, too, and she gave Bobby her own pretty mahogany "secretary" that was ever so old a desk, to write at.

Bobby put his tongue in his cheek and worked hard for fifteen minutes.

Then he was ready to read aloud.

"'Dear Daddy and Mother:'" he read. "'We thought you would like to hear from us. Last week Peter was haying and Meg and I helped him make loads. Meg drove into the barn all by herself. It is fun to see them unload the hay, because they have a thing they call a hayfork that comes down and takes up big handfuls and carries it up to the mow. I can almost milk. The twins are very good most of the time. Your loving son, Robert Hayward Blossom.'"

"Will they know that's from you?" asked Meg doubtfully, slipping into the chair at the desk and taking up the pencil to print her letter.

"You never call yourself Robert."

"I guess I know how to write a letter," Bobby informed her with dignity. "You always sign your real names to letters, don't you, Aunt Polly?"

"Yes, indeed, dear," said Aunt Polly, who was doing something to a pair of overalls.

Meg printed slowly and carefully, and soon her letter was ready to be read aloud.