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Four Little Blossoms at Brookside Farm



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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 kiddie car and continued to smile pleasantly.

The four Blossoms trudged briskly along. If you had ever lived in Oak Hill you would have known them. The whole town knew Meg and Bobby and Dot and Twaddles, and the children knew nearly every one, having lived in that one place all their short lives.

Bobby was the oldest. He was seven, and was remarkably like his sister Meg in looks. Both had fair hair and blue eyes. Meg’s real name was Margaret Alice Blossom, and she was named for her mother. Bobby’s full name was Robert Hayward Blossom. He was just a year older than Meg.

The twins were the funniest and dearest little couple, four years old and as roly-poly, happy-go-lucky a pair of youngsters as ever tumbled into one scrape after another and out again....