CHAPTER XVII
MR. MENDAM
"Sled!" chorused all the other Blossoms. "Where is there a sled?"
Dot pointed to a drift at one side of the road. Sure enough, the runners of a sled were sticking straight out.
"Perhaps there is a little boy in there," Twaddles whispered, awe-struck, and Sam hooted with laughter.
"No little boy would stay quietly buried in a snow drift, Twaddles," said Sam. "But I begin to think this road is bewitched—we seem to be finding stray belongings every other yard or two."
The children hopped out over the side of the sleigh and pulled out the sled. It was a good sled, but not new; the paint was worn off it in patches and one of the runners was a little bent. It had the name in faint gilt letters across the top, "The King."
"Now what do you know about that?" said Sam. "What shall we do with the thing? It isn't yours, even if you did find it."
"But let's take it with us," Meg urged. "We can put up signs in the Fernwood post-office—the way they do in Oak Hill when anything is lost and found. You know how, Sam?"
"Bring it along, then," yielded Sam. "But after this we can't make any more stops; we'll be too late to get the freight if we dawdle and that happens to be what we were sent for."
Bobby lifted the sled into the sleigh and the four children settled down cozily again, under the warm blankets and robe. Sam did not seem to be cold—he had heavy gloves and he whistled cheerfully when he wasn't talking.
They were soon off the cross road and when they turned into the main highway, the going was much easier. There were many cars and a few other sleighs on this road and most of them were going toward Fernwood. The four little Blossoms had been to that town before, with their daddy in the car, and they knew where the post-office was. Meg wanted to go there first, but Sam was anxious to reach the freight station.
"Well, let us get out at the post-office," Bobby begged, always eager to do whatever Meg wanted done. "We can print the signs—or maybe the post-office man will. Then when you come back we'll be ready to go."
"Will you promise not to go away from the post-office, but wait for me there?" asked Sam.
The children promised and he stopped the sleigh before the high flight of steps that led to the post-office. It was a square wooden building and built on such a tall foundation that it looked as though it stood on stilts. The fire house was in the basement, but the engine, when there was a fire, went out of a door on the other side. You couldn't expect a fire engine to come out under those wooden steps and turn around to go to the fire.
Meg and Bobby carried the sled up the stairs and Twaddles carried the glove. Dot wished she had something to carry, but she found a way to be useful without that; she had to hold the door open for a stout old gentleman who came up directly behind them and who almost was knocked down the steps by the sled runners as Meg and Bobby tried to get it inside the doorway.
"Thank you," said the stout old gentleman to Dot as she clung to the heavy door. "You're a thoughtful little girl."
Once inside the post-office, the children found that it wasn't exactly like the office at Oak Hill. It was larger and the windows were so far from the floor that the twins couldn't see inside at all and Bobby had to stand on tiptoe to speak to the clerk.
"We found some things in the road," said Bobby, holding on to the little window shelf with both hands when the clerk who had heard them come in asked him what he wanted.
"We thought we could put them on the lost and found board," Meg added.
"What sort of things are they?" asked the clerk kindly.
"This sled," Bobby answered, while the stout old gentleman who was writing at the desk against the wall, looked up.
"And a glove," chimed in Twaddles and Dot importantly.
"Good gracious!" the stout old gentleman exclaimed and the clerk leaned closer to the window and shouted.
"Did you hear that, Mr. Mendam?" he called. "They found a glove—maybe it is the one you lost."
"It is, of course it is," Mr. Mendam replied, taking the glove from Twaddles and looking at it closely. "Where did you find it? Good gracious, I never was so pleased—never!"
They explained to him where they had found the glove and the stout old gentleman said it was one of a pair his daughter had just given him for his birthday. He was so evidently delighted to have recovered his glove that the four little Blossoms forgot the sled for a moment. Dot was the first to remember.
"Did you lose a sled, too?" she asked him eagerly.
"Or an automobile?" Twaddles suggested, quite as though people were in the habit of losing their automobiles.
"There's one stuck on the road," said Bobby.
The post-office clerk laughed and said that wasn't a lost car.
"It belongs to Mayor Pace, of Fernwood," he explained. "He couldn't get through last night and he left the car there. His son is going to tow it out this afternoon, I believe."
"About the sled—it isn't mine," said Mr. Mendam. "I think we'd better have that on the lost and found board. Do you want to write the notice?"
"We'd rather you did it," Bobby answered politely. "I can write, but some folks can't read it."
Mr. Mendam wrote busily on a sheet of paper and then read aloud what he had written.
"Found—a sled on the Hill Road," he read. "Finder may have same by describing and making application at the post-office window."
"There—we'll paste that up and the child who is short one sled may see it and get it back," said Mr. Mendam and he pasted the slip of paper on the bulletin board which hung over the desk where he had been writing.
"I'm pretty lucky to get my glove back, eh, Carter?" he said to the clerk. "Would you believe it, I was just going to write out a notice for the board myself, offering a reward for the return of it. And here it is placed in my hand. What do you think the reward should be, Carter?"
"Something pretty handsome, sir," answered the clerk, smiling.
The four little Blossoms looked uncomfortable.
"We don't want any reward, thank you, Mr. Mendam," said Bobby bravely.
"We just found the glove lying in the snow—Twaddles found it."
"But I'd like to do something for you," the stout old gentleman insisted. "If you won't take a real reward—and I had intended offering ten dollars for the return of the glove—tell me something I can do for you."
"There's the fair," whispered Meg, but Mr. Mendam heard her.
"Fair?" he said briskly. "What fair? Where? Do you want me to come and buy things? Tell me where it is and I'll come and bring my daughter."
But when Meg rather shyly said the fair was to be given in Oak Hill and not for a week or two, Mr. Mendam shook his head.
"I'll be away then," he explained. "My daughter and I are going to Montreal for the winter sports. But why don't you let me give you the ten dollars for the fair? That will be just the same as though I had come there and bought that much."
Meg looked uncertainly at Bobby.
"Maybe Mother won't like it," she said.
But Bobby was sure she wouldn't care and when he told Mr. Mendam about Paul Jordan and his mother and that the fair was for them, Mr. Mendam, too, was sure Mother Blossom wouldn't mind.
"You put this in your pocket," he told Bobby, handing him a folded bill. "Mind you don't lose it. And if your mother, for any reason, isn't willing for you to keep it, you may send it back and I will not be offended."
Bobby put the money away carefully, down deep in his pocket, and then Mr. Mendam said he was thirsty and wouldn't they go with him to the drug store and have an ice-cream soda?
"I never saw a day too cold for ice-cream soda—did you?" he added, smiling.
"We promised Sam to stay here till he came for us," Meg explained regretfully, for she was very fond of soda.
"He won't be long, will he?" said Mr. Mendam. "I'll wait with you."
And wait he did, till the sound of jingling sleigh bells announced that Sam was at the door. The sleigh was filled with boxes, tied on to keep them from falling off, and there was just a little space left for the children.
Sam was surprised to see them come down the steps with a stranger with them, and more surprised to hear that he was the owner of the glove and that the "reward" was to go to Paul Jordan and that the four little Blossoms had been invited to the drug store for a treat.
"Things just seem to happen to you, wherever you are," said Sam. "I wish I could lead as exciting a life as you do."
Mr. Mendam insisted that he must come with them and Sam tied the horse and went. The four little Blossoms had a wonderful time, choosing their favorite sodas and for once no one said the twins were too young to have whatever they chose. Mr. Mendam wandered off before they had all quite finished and when he came back, he had a pile of small boxes under his arm.
"Something to eat on the way home," he said, handing a box to each child.
"Candy!" cried Twaddles blissfully. "It's just like Christmas!"
Sam had tied the sleigh in front of the drug store and when they came out, Mr. Mendam helped him tuck the children in between the boxes and the seat and cover them up carefully.
"I wouldn't have lost that glove for a good deal," he told them, as Sam was ready to start. "I value gifts from my daughter highly. Good-bye and good luck to your fair."
"Oh, wait!" Dot wailed as Sam drove off. "Wait a minute, Sam; I want to ask him something!"