"Two apiece, and no more," said Norah firmly. "'Tis blunting your appetite for supper if ye take more than two. Are they good, Twaddles?"
Twaddles' mouth was too full for an answer, but his eyes spoke for him.
Those cookies were simply delicious.
"Bobby!" cried Meg from the window where she had wandered with her cakes. "Oh, Bobby, here's that horrid Tim Roon and Charlie Black. Look! They're going to throw snowballs at our snow man."
There was a rush for the window. Sure enough there stood Tim Roon and Charlie Black, just outside the fence, and as the four little Blossoms watched, Tim flung a snowball smack at the poor defenseless snow man.
"Leave 'em alone," counseled Norah, putting a restraining hand on Twaddles, who was making for the door. "As long as 'tis only the snow man they're aiming at, let 'em be."
But as Norah spoke, whiz! through the kitchen door came a big snowball. It landed right on top of the basket of wash, and lay wet and dirty on top of a ruffled guimpe of Dot's.
"The dirty ragamuffins!" The angry Norah snatched the slushy ball and flung it into the coal-scuttle. "The miserable spalpeens!"
Bobby seized his cap.
"I'll fix them!" he muttered, as he dashed out of the house.
Tim Roon and Charlie Black saw him coming, and they judged that it would be better to run. They didn't want to fight Bobby, even two to one, so close to his own house. Some one might come out and help him.