He ran to look out of the dining-room window.

“Mother, it’s the feed-store man,” he shouted.  “He’s got a sleigh.  Can we go?”

Mother Blossom stepped to the door.  The “feed-store man” was Mr. Wright, and the four little Blossoms knew him very well.

“Morning!” They heard him greet Mother Blossom.  “Nice winter weather we’re having.  Anybody going to school this morning?  I’m driving around that way.”

Meg and Bobby danced out on the front porch.

“Take us?” they cried excitedly.  “We’re all ready.”

“Sure, I’ll take you,” was the hearty response.  “Send Dot and Twaddles along, too.  I’m going to the station and back, and I’ll drop you at the school house and take them on with me.  I’ll have them back inside an hour, Mrs. Blossom.”

Mother Blossom said Dot and Twaddles could go, and in another minute they were climbing into the sleigh, which was a low box wagon on runners, drawn by two lively bay horses.

The twins sat down cozily in the straw that covered the floor on the sleigh, but Bobby rode up on the seat with Mr. Wright, and Meg did, too.  She usually did everything Bobby did.

“Had any snowball fights yet?” asked Mr. Wright, his breath coming out of his mouth like white smoke.

“No.  We’ve been coasting,” replied Bobby, “but we haven’t had a snowball fight.  Miss Wright won’t let you throw snowballs near the school.  She’s afraid you’ll break a window.”

Miss Wright, the vice-principal of the Oak Hill primary school, was the feed-store man’s cousin.

“That so?” he asked interestedly.  “Well, now, I’ll have to speak to Cousin Lelia.  When I was a boy and went to school we had regular snowball fights.  Built forts, you know, and chose a captain for each side and had real exciting times.  You tell her you won’t throw toward the school, and I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if she let you build forts in the school yard and have a good battle.”

“The snow’s fine there,” said Meg, catching Mr. Wright’s enthusiasm.  “It hasn’t been touched since the first storm, only where the janitor dug out the walks.  I’d love to have a snowball fight.”

“Girls don’t snowball fight, do they?” Bobby was quite scandalized, and appealed to Mr. Wright.

“Well, now, I don’t believe they did when we were boys,” admitted the feed-store man slowly.  “But times have changed, you know.  I should say that the side that lets girls have a place stands the best chance of winning this snowball fight you’re planning.”

“Can we stay?” begged Twaddles and Dot, who had overheard.

“I should say not!” declared Bobby crushingly.  Meg might win her point, but he hoped he could still handle the twins.  “You go straight home.  And you can tell Mother, if we don’t come in early, that we’re having a snowball fight at school.”

“You always have all the fun,” grumbled Dot.  “Why can’t we stay a little while?”