"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."