"Yes. But it isn't lit," her brother said. "I'm not going to burn it for this little walk. Hurry, or we'll be late."
They reached the school house just as the first bell rang, and all that afternoon first Meg, then Bobby, would glance at the windows, fearful lest they see the whirling white flakes that would mean they could not go after the eggs. But three o'clock came and still no snow.
"I said it wouldn't!" announced Bobby triumphantly, meeting Meg at the door, for he had had to go down to the cellar and borrow a match from the janitor to light the little charcoal stove Mother Blossom had given him to carry in his pocket.
"Feel how warm." Bobby held out the stove for Meg to hold in her hand. "John had to light it for me, 'cause he was afraid I'd set myself on fire. Silly! I guess I've lit matches before!"
As a matter of fact, Bobby had had very little to do with matches unless an older person was about, but he did not like the janitor to think he never had matches in his pocket.
Bobby had their skates over his arm, and the two children hurried down to the pond. Already a number of skaters were out, and the ice was in perfect condition. Bobby helped Meg buckle on her skates and then in a few minutes he had adjusted his own, and they set off.
"Next year, maybe, we can have real hockey skates," said Meg. "The twins are going to have double runners. But we've had fun on these, haven't we?"
Bobby looked at his sister. She wore a bright red tam-o'-shanter cap on her yellow hair, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her cheeks were rosy above the dark fur collar of her coat, and even if she was his sister, Bobby had to admit that she was very pretty.
"Sure we've had fun on these skates," he agreed heartily. "You skate fine now, Meg, honest you do."
Meg was pleased, as what little sister would not be?