By this time Bobby and Twaddles, rosy and panting, had reached the top of the hill.

“The snow’s packed fine,” said Bobby enthusiastically.  “What are you waiting for, Meg?  Feet cold?”

“No, they’re warm enough,” answered Meg, absently stamping her feet in the snow to prove it.  “Dot’s afraid.”

“I am not!” cried Dot indignantly.  “I just said Meg went too fast.”

“And she wanted to know if I could steer,” said Meg scornfully.  “There’s nothing to steering, is there, Bobby?”

“Well, of course, you have to be careful,” answered Bobby.  “Suppose I take Dot down?  Want to go with me?”

Dot nodded.

“All right,” said Bobby.  “Meg, you’ll give Twaddles a coast or two, won’t you?  If he kicks you in the back just shove your elbow into him.”

Twaddles looked abashed.  He had a habit, when excited, of kicking with his sharp little right foot, and Bobby strongly objected to being punched in the back when he was centering all his mind on the steering bars of his sled.

Dot settled herself comfortably behind Bobby and glanced back at Meg uncertainly.

“You don’t mind, do you, Meg?” she asked timidly.

“Mind?” echoed Meg.  “Oh, no, of course not.  Silly Dot!”

Meg, Father Blossom had once said, saved a good many minutes that other people wasted in grumbling or envying or being cross.  Meg seldom had mean little feelings.

“One, two, three—­go!” shouted Dave Saunders suddenly.

A whole fleet of little sleds with shrieking youngsters on them shot down the hill.

“Gee!” cried Twaddles, forgetting and using his right foot vigorously.  “Gee, isn’t this fun!”

“There, did I steer to suit you?” asked Bobby of Dot, as he ran gently into a sloping snow bank and the sled stopped.

“It was lovely,” sighed Dot.  “Do it again, Bobby.”

“All right,” agreed Bobby.  “You stay on, Dot, and we’ll give you a ride back.  But Twaddles, you walk.”

“I should think he’d better,” declared Meg severely.  “Kicking me in the back like that!”

Twaddles was sure that he would remember the next time, and Meg forgave him.

At the top of the hill they lined up again, and Bobby found Tim Roon and Charlie Black on one side of him.

“Packs good, doesn’t it?” said Tim affably.

During the fall and winter Tim and Charlie had occasioned a good deal of trouble for Bobby in one way or another, and he was not at all desirous of having much to do with them.  In school, especially, they had landed him in a sad scrape, and Meg, too, had had to endure their teasing.  Still, coasting was another matter.

“Have you been here long?” asked Bobby, as Dot tucked in her skirts and Twaddles planted himself behind Meg.  “Why didn’t you come to school?”

“Didn’t want to,” grinned Tim.  “Charlie and I coasted all the morning, ’cept once when we saw old Hornbeck’s buggy and horse coming.  Had the whole hill to ourselves.”