Down the slightly sloping lawn hurried a short, thick-set little girl with dark eyes and hair and the reddest cheeks you ever saw. She carried a doll whose blue eyes opened and shut snappily with every jump her small mother took. This was Dot, Meg’s little sister.
“You said I could go,” panted Dot, when she caught up with Meg and Bobby. “Wait for 9 Twaddles, he’s coming. He wants to take the kiddie car.”
“I told you so,” scolded Bobby. “I never went uptown in my life all you children didn’t want to tag along. You’ve got grease on your dress, Dot.”
“Sam was cleaning the car,” said Dot serenely. “I guess I brushed against the grease can. It won’t show when I’m sitting down. There’s Twaddles.”
Bumping its way over the green grass came a kiddie car with a small boy astride it.
“I’m all ready,” he beamed. “Come on, Bobby.”
“You can’t take that kiddie car,” announced Bobby firmly. “Mother said this letter was to go in the four o’clock mail and we’ve got to hurry. If you and Dot want to go, you’ll have to walk fast.”
Twaddles usually minded Bobby. He promptly surrendered the kiddie car and continued to smile pleasantly.
The four Blossoms trudged briskly along. If you had ever lived in Oak Hill you would have 10 known them. The whole town knew Meg and Bobby and Dot and Twaddles, and the children knew nearly every one, having lived in that one place all their short lives.
Bobby was the oldest. He was seven, and was remarkably like his sister Meg in looks. Both had fair hair and blue eyes. Meg’s real name was Margaret Alice Blossom, and she was named for her mother. Bobby’s full name was Robert Hayward Blossom. He was just a year older than Meg.