“He doesn’t know that this was great Aunt Dorothy’s,” said Meg sadly.

A very solemn little procession turned in at the Blossom front gate, for Dot and Twaddles were depressed, too.  Bobby was towing both sleds and looked as sober as a judge.

“How late you are!” Aunt Polly, reading by the fireplace in the living-room, called to them as she heard the front door open.  “Your mother began to worry about you.  Is the coasting good?”

“Yes, I guess so,” answered Bobby vaguely.

Twaddles sat down on the floor to pull off his rubber boots.

“Meg lost her locket!” he announced, seeing no reason why bad news should be concealed, especially when he was not to blame for it.

Mother Blossom came downstairs just in time to hear this.

“Meg lost her locket!” she repeated.  “Not great Aunt Dorothy’s?  Oh, Meg, and I told you not to wear it out coasting!”

Poor Meg’s tears came faster.

“I did mean to take it off,” she sobbed.  “An’ then Norah called me and the twins were in a hurry, and Bobby wanted his cap, and I forgot about the locket.  My darling little gold locket!”

Aunt Polly had come out into the hall, and now Father Blossom opened the front door to find Mother Blossom sitting on the last stair-step, Meg crying in her lap, and the rest of the family standing about with serious faces.

“Hello, anything happened?” he asked anxiously.  “Is Meg sick?”

“She lost her locket,” answered Dot.

“Well, well, that’s too bad,” said Father Blossom sympathetically.  “Don’t cry like that, Daughter.  No locket is worth all those tears.”

“Mother,” confided Twaddles impartially, “is scolding her.”

“Twaddles Blossom, march upstairs and get ready for supper,” said Mother Blossom, half sternly, half smilingly.  “I’m not scolding Meg.  I want her to realize, though, that forgetting is a poor excuse, and that no matter how sorry we are after something has happened it is too late to do the right thing then.”

“I’m so hungry,” declared Dot, who couldn’t bear to see Meg in trouble.  “Couldn’t we eat pretty soon?”

Mother Blossom went upstairs with Meg and helped her bathe her eyes, and at supper every one was careful not to mention the lost locket.  Meg wasn’t scolded any more, but every time she saw the empty blue velvet box in her bureau drawer she was reminded of her carelessness.  Aunt Polly said nothing at all, but Meg wondered if she was sorry she had given it to such a heedless girl.  Meg thought a good deal about the many “oldest daughters” who had kept the locket safely for her.

“We’ll go and look for it after school,” Bobby promised the next day; and though they did, they found no trace of it.

That night it snowed again, and Sam and Philip—­Philip always assisted at cleaning the walks—­had their work to do over again.

“Sleigh bells!” exclaimed Bobby, as the children were in the hall putting on their things for the walk to school.  “Some one’s calling.”