Four Little Blossoms at Oak Hill School Part 22

"Mother is right," declared Father Blossom, who had come home early and had heard the story from Aunt Polly, Meg, the twins, and Norah before he had taken off his overcoat. "Don't fret about Tim and Charlie--those young scamps need a couple of interviews with Mr.

Carter if they are not to grow up utterly reckless."

So the next morning Bobby carried a note to Miss Mason, and when she had read it she actually hugged him and begged his pardon as simply as if he had been a grown-up friend. She wanted to tell the whole cla.s.s how mistaken she had been, but Bobby nearly fainted at the thought and begged her not to.

"I'll tell them one by one, then," announced Miss Mason, who, it seemed, could not do enough to make up for her unkindness.

Before the morning session was called nearly every child in the room knew that Bobby Blossom had not touched Miss Mason's book but that Tim Roon was the culprit. Tim and Charlie had been sent down to the princ.i.p.al's office by Miss Mason before a.s.sembly, and Miss Wright had telephoned for Mr. Carter. He came over at once, and Tim and Charlie spent an unhappy hour with him.

"You're both cowards," he told them hotly. "I'd have you up before the cla.s.s to confess your underhanded scheme if I didn't know that it would embarra.s.s Bobby more than it would you. The school law won't let me keep you longer than an hour at night, but every night for a month you'll stay an hour after school. And, Tim, here's a note for your father. Don't try to get out of delivering it. I'll call him up at six o'clock to-night and ask if he has received it."

Tim gave his father the note that night, and something very serious happened to him. More than that, he had to work every Sat.u.r.day for a long, long time in his father's store to help pay the money his father insisted on sending to Miss Mason. Of course it was impossible to replace the book, for the autographs could never be collected again, but Mr. Roon was determined to pay Miss Mason the sum her friend had spent for the book. It was a great deal of money, but "the Roons always pay up," declared Mr. Roon, "and if it takes Tim the rest of his lazy life, he's got to work out the money."

Soon every one but Tim forgot the book, for the Thanksgiving Day exercises were drawing nearer and nearer. The Blossoms always had wonderful times Thanksgivings, and this year, with Aunt Polly with them, they meant to have the best holiday yet.

Such boxes and barrels as came down from Brookside Farm, packed by Jud and his father, and reminding the four little Blossoms of the good times they had had that summer. There were red apples and green apples, yellow pumpkins, potatoes, turnips and beautiful crisp celery, black walnuts and b.u.t.ternuts, wonderful for cake and candy and what Dot called "plain eating," and, most wonderful of all, two great plump turkeys.

"Those are some you saw running around, Twaddles," Aunt Polly told him as he helped her unpack the box. "Remember how they looked? You thought they were chickens."

The morning before Thanksgiving Day fresh eggs and b.u.t.ter came by parcels post.

"If you'd only sent a tablecloth and a few forks, Polly," laughed Mother Blossom, "I shouldn't have had a thing to do about getting dinner."

Meg and Bobby couldn't think much about the dinner. Wasn't this the day they were to recite?

"Wouldn't it be too awful," said Meg, at the breakfast table, "if when I got up on the platform I should forget every word?"

"But you won't," Mother Blossom a.s.sured her. "You'll remember every word. See if you don't. You come home to lunch, don't you, children, and get dressed?"

"Yes. And then we have to be back by half-past one," said Bobby importantly. "The exercises begin at two. Where's my bag of apples?"

The children of the Oak Hill school every year brought gifts of food to the Thanksgiving Day exercises which were afterward distributed among the poor families of the town. Bobby took apples this year and Meg was to take two jars of home-made preserves.

They hurried through the morning at school, rushed home and found a devoted family on hand to help them dress.

"There were such lots of things brought," chattered Meg, as her mother b.u.t.toned her into the new white frock and Aunt Polly tied her hair-ribbon. "They liked your potatoes, Dot."

"And my popcorn?" asked Twaddles anxiously.

The twins, not to be cheated out of the fun, had insisted on sending Thanksgiving gifts, too.

"Yes, they thought that was great," said Bobby, s.h.i.+ning and neat in his new suit. "Hurry, Meg."

"Come early and get good seats," called Meg as they trotted off.

At exactly two o'clock the whole school marched into the a.s.sembly room and took the seats reserved for them. The first and second grades were seated on the platform, because experience had taught the teachers that some of the younger children invariably fell either up or down the platform steps if they had anything at all to do with them. On one side of the platform the school committee sat, headed by Rufus Hornbeck.

Bobby's recitation followed the first song, and he and the five boys with him breathed a great sigh of relief when they were through and went back to their seats free to enjoy the rest of the afternoon.

Then came more songs and more recitations, and then finally it was Meg's turn. She had discovered where her father and mother and Aunt Polly and the twins were sitting, and when she came out to speak she looked straight at them and smiled. And the five verses were as straight and clear in her mind as though she were reciting them to Mother Blossom in the sitting room at home.

"What a dear little girl, and what a pretty dress!" said an old lady sitting back of the Blossoms, as Meg made her little bow at the end and the room broke into hearty applause.

Twaddles turned around to beam approvingly at the old lady.

"That's my sister," he informed her.

Rufus Hornbeck and two others of the committee had to make rather long, tiresome speeches, and when that was over the audience joined in singing "My Country, 'tis of thee," and the exercises were over.

"Oh, look!" exclaimed Bobby, as they opened the school door and stepped out into the street.

It was almost dark, for the days were fast shortening, and a fine, light snow was falling softly. Already the ground and walks were white, and the fences were taking queer shapes.

"Snow!" chorused the four little Blossoms in ecstasy. "Let's ask Sam to mend the sleds to-night."

The snow fell all that night and all the next day and people said it was an old-fas.h.i.+oned white Thanksgiving. An old-fas.h.i.+oned white winter it proved to be, too, and if you want to hear what fun the four little Blossoms had playing in the white snow, you will have to read the next book about them, called "Four Little Blossoms and Their Winter Fun."

"If we only had new sleds," sighed Bobby. The sleds they had were somewhat old and broken.

"We might get new ones," said Meg hopefully.

"I'm going to learn to skate this winter," remarked Twaddles.

"So am I," added his twin.

And here, for a time, we will leave the four little Blossoms and say good-by.