Christmas dinner was a wonderful affair, with a huge brown turkey and a plum pudding surrounded by a wreath of holly. Philip and Annabel Lee had an extra good meal, too, in the garage where they preferred to spend most of their time. Philip seemed to feel that he was really Sam’s dog and Annabel Lee liked to sleep on the old fur robe Sam kept especially for her.
“So you’re going coasting, hey?” said Uncle Dave, when after dinner the four little Blossoms began to bundle themselves up and Bobby went down cellar and brought up the sleds. “Did you ever hear the story, Meg, about the little girl who coasted into a snow bank and wasn’t seen again till the next spring?”
“Oh, no,” answered Meg, her eyes round with wonder. “Was she all dead, Uncle Dave?”
“Mercy, I should hope not!” said Uncle Dave, his eyes twinkling more than ever. “You see, it was spring the next day by the calendar, though there was snow on the ground.”
“Dave, you shouldn’t tease the children,” reproved Aunt Miranda, coming into the hall and knitting as she walked. “They won’t know, pretty soon, when you are in earnest and when you’re not.”
“I like to hear stories,” said Meg, pulling her tam down over her yellow hair. “Don’t you want to come coasting, Uncle Dave?”
“Well, no, I’d rather stay home and smoke,” replied Uncle Dave placidly. “I’ve had my day coasting. When I was the age of Dot, my father made me a sled and I went up on the roof and coasted off the woodshed and was in bed a week.”
“I wouldn’t be putting such notions in the heads of children, Dave,” said Aunt Miranda, gently. “They’ll be wanting to coast off the roof next.”
“No, we can’t,” said Twaddles sadly. “We haven’t any woodshed.”
The four little Blossoms had two sleds, just alike; one for Meg and Dot and the other for Bobby and Twaddles. Wayne Place Hill was the finest coasting spot in Oak Hill and when they reached it this afternoon, they found a crowd of girls and boys already enjoying the fun. Some of them had new Christmas sleds and some, like the four little Blossoms, had sleds that were almost new and some had old, old sleds that were battered and scarred and tied up with rope to make them last. And, strange to say, the children who had the oldest sleds seemed to be having as good a time as the ones with brand-new shiny sleds.