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."