That made them all laugh, and then Father Blossom began to ask
anxiously if any one was hurt.

"No one, thank goodness," Mother Blossom assured him, opening the
tonneau door so that Meg and Dot might step out. "You haven't cut
your hand, Ralph?"

"Just a scratch," answered Father Blossom carelessly. "I bore down
pretty hard on the wheel rim. Well, I'm thankful we didn't turn
over. What do you suppose was the reason for this running jump?"

The four little Blossoms were out on the ground now, picking their
way carefully, for they were surrounded by clumps of prickly
bushes. Mother Blossom joined Father Blossom, who was anxiously
inspecting the car.

"It's wedged in so tightly I'll never be able to back it out," he
said. "Only see, Margaret, how neatly it has slipped in between
these three saplings. If I had tried that stunt I couldn't have
made it once in fifty chances."

Meg and Dot and Twaddles and Bobby crowded closer to look. Perhaps
this is a good time to tell you who the four little Blossoms were,
if you have never met them before.

You have guessed, of course, that they had other and longer names.
Meg was named for her mother, Margaret; Bobby was Robert Hayward
Blossom on the school roll; the twins (they were four years old)
were Dorothy Anna and Arthur Gifford Blossom, but no one ever
thought of calling the roly-poly dark-eyed pair anything but Dot