“Errands,” said Dot briefly. “Folks wanted to give me pennies for errands every time; but you said we mustn’t take pennies.”
“Not for doing little kindnesses,” declared Mother Blossom firmly. “Just remember the times the neighbors have given you cookies and cloth for doll dresses, Dot, and sent you postal cards from far away cities. I know you and Twaddles are both glad to do an errand now and then for the Peabodys and the Wards and the Hiltons.”
“Why, of course they are,” said Father Blossom. “And that reminds me, I have four shiny new quarters in my pocket that I’ve been saving for you children. Perhaps that will help you with this Christmas shopping.”
The four little Blossoms were sure it would, and when they started uptown soon after breakfast they felt very rich indeed. Meg carried the money in a beaded bag and Dot sat on the sled. They were sure they would need a sled to bring the bundles home on. It had stopped snowing but there was a thick, snowy blanket on every street and the sled pulled easily.
“How many presents do we have to buy, Meg?” asked Dot, who certainly depended on Meg for a great deal of information.
“Mother, Daddy, Norah, Sam, Twaddles, Bobby and me,” counted Meg on her fingers. “You have to buy seven presents.”
“Eight, counting me,” said Dot.
“You don’t buy a present for yourself,” Bobby reminded her.
“Oh, yes, that’s so, I don’t,” admitted Dot. “Well, then does each of us have to buy seven presents?”
“We’re forgetting Uncle Dave and Aunt Miranda,” said Meg. “It wouldn’t be nice to have them come see us Christmas and not have any presents. That makes nine.”