“We––we want to go to school, too,” explained Dot, speaking to Miss Mason, “so we came.”
“I see,” admitted the teacher. “You’re not old enough to come to school yet. Whose children are you?”
“Please, Miss Mason,” Meg stood up bravely, “they’re my brother and sister, Twaddles and Dot.”
“Dorothy, I suppose,” amended Miss Mason, who could never bear to use a nickname, no matter how pretty. “But where on earth did a child get the name of Twaddles?”
“His right name is Arthur Gifford Blossom,” explained Meg timidly.
The twins were sitting down comfortably on the edge of the platform and studying the room with interest.
“Well, Margaret, I think you will have to 85 take them home,” said Miss Mason, not unkindly. “It lacks only fifteen minutes of dismissal time, anyway. I shall let the girls go at half-past three, but the boys will have to remain till we get this matter of the defaced book straightened out. Go and get your hat and coat, Margaret.”
Meg went to the cloak room for her hat and coat and came back to find Miss Mason saying good-by to the twins.
“And when you are six years old we’ll be very glad to have you come to school,” she told them. “Don’t forget the doll––all right, now you’re ready.”
She held open the door for Philip, and even patted him on the head as he trotted through. The irrepressible twins, who had enjoyed their visit and were sorry to have it over so soon, turned as they were following Meg out of the room.