“Ralph!” said Mother Blossom, when they had driven several miles, “Ralph, I do believe it is beginning to snow.”
“I thought so myself a few minutes ago,” answered Father Blossom. “I’ll go on to the next cross-roads and turn. We can be home before it storms heavily.”
But the white flakes began to come faster and faster and the road was white when they reached the cross-road. Father Blossom turned the car and they started back to Oak Hill. Dot was half asleep, though she would have been much aggrieved if anyone had said so, when Meg said excitedly that she saw something in the road.
“Look, Daddy, over under that bush!” she insisted. “Let me get out and see. Oh, maybe it’s lost in this snowstorm!”
“Let Bobby go, Daughter,” said Father Blossom stopping the car. “Bobby, don’t you want to run over and see what that is under the bush?”
Bobby was very glad to go and he was out in a minute and running across the road.
“It’s a dog, Daddy,” he shouted. “A little white dog. And he is so cold!”
“Bring him here and we’ll take care of him,” said Father Blossom, smiling at Meg who was nearly jumping up and down with anxiety. “Trust Meg to see an animal in trouble. I never should have noticed that bit of fluff under the bush. Why, he’s almost the color of the snow!”
The little white dog Bobby brought back in his arms was so tiny and so soft and silky that he might easily have been overlooked in a snowstorm. He was evidently lost and had crawled under the bush in an effort to keep warm. Meg held him on her lap and put her muff over him to keep the cold air off.
“He has a silver collar on,” she reported, “but I can’t read it. Can you, Bobby?”