"Why don't ye come out?" demanded Norah, relieved to find that he was
not hurt. "I left the teakettle boiling over to come and see if ye
were killed."

"I can't get out," said Bobby, struggling. "Lend us a hand, can't you,
Twaddles?"

Bobby had fallen with enough force to wedge himself tightly into the
heart of the bush, and indeed it was no easy matter to dislodge him.
Norah took one hand and Meg the other, and they tugged and pulled till
Norah was afraid they might pull him out in pieces.

"Where's Sam?" panted Meg. "He could bend down some of the branches."

"Sam," said Norah, "has gone to meet your father with the car."

"Here comes Mother!" shouted Twaddles, as a familiar figure came up the
path. "Oh, Mother, Bobby's stuck!"

Mother Blossom was used to "most anything." She said so often. The
four little Blossoms had heard her. So now, though Aunt Polly gasped
to see the front door wide open and the hall light streaming out over
the snow, three children dancing about in the cold with no wraps on and
a fourth nearly buried in a tall bush, Mother Blossom merely put down
the two or three bundles she carried, leaned her weight against the
bush and directed Norah how to bend down other branches. Then, holding
on to his mother's arm, Bobby crawled out.

"Run in, every one of you, before you take cold," commanded Mother
Blossom quickly. "What have you been doing? Dot looks as though she