"It's in the blue box on your closet shelf," answered Meg. She was an
orderly little sister, and the boys counted on her help to remind them
where they had left their things.

"Meg!" This time the call came from Norah, who was putting away clean
sheets in the linen closet. "Down on the kitchen table I left four
drop cakes--one apiece for ye. Your mother said 'twas all right."

"Meg! Bobby! Hurry up!" shrieked the twins.

Bobby crammed his cap on his head and dashed down the front stairs.
Meg seized her clean handkerchief, ran to the kitchen and got the cakes
and went out by way of the back door.

"Thought you were never coming," grumbled Twaddles. "Cake, Meg?"

"One for you. One for Dot," said Meg dividing, and giving Bobby his.
"Now aren't you sorry you were cross?"

"He wasn't," Dot assured her; the twins had a way of standing up for
each other. "He was just afraid the others would use up all the snow
'fore we got there."

Really, there didn't seem to be much danger of that. Wayne Place hill
was alive with coasters when the four little Blossoms reached it. The
snow was still deep and soft on the sides, and packed hard and smooth
in the center of the road.

"Here comes a bob!" cried Bobby, as the children began their walk up.