"I don't doubt it, Daughter," said Mother Blossom sympathetically.
"Twaddles, I think that was rather a mean trick."
"Paid her up for calling me silly," muttered Twaddles, his face scarlet.
"It was funny, though," insisted Bobby smiling.
Meg tried not to laugh and then she gave in.
"Yes, it was," she admitted, dimpling. "The ink splashed all over, Mother, and when Miss Mason made Palmer take it out it gave another jump and landed way over on the window seat."
"Miss Mason has it now," said Bobby. "She wouldn't give it back."
"But it's mine," wailed Twaddles. "I want it to play with. Make
Meg get it, won't you, Mother?"
"I won't!" announced Meg stubbornly.
"Don't speak that way, Meg," said Mother Blossom gently. "Twaddles, it seems to me that since the grasshopper got Meg into such trouble, and you put it in her pocket, that you're the one to get it back. If you want it badly enough to ask Miss Mason for it, well and good; otherwise I fear you have lost your grasshopper."
Poor Twaddles knew there was no way out of it. Either he must lose his beautiful green grasshopper, or else go and ask Miss Mason to give it to him. Mother Blossom never allowed the children to coax; when she said a thing she always meant it.