That night it snowed again.  Father Blossom said winter was a habit, like anything else, and that after the weather made up its mind to send one snow-storm it couldn’t stop but had to send them right along.

“I want Dot to stay in the house to-day,” said Mother Blossom, after Meg and Bobby had started for school.  “She coughed a good deal last night and I think she’ll have to keep out of the snow for a while.”

“Oh, Mother!” wailed Dot.  “I want to go coasting with Twaddles.  Everybody’s out on Wayne Place hill in the afternoons, and when we go in the morning we have the nicest time!  Please, Mother, just this once; and I will take the nasty cough medicine to-night, just as good.”

Mother Blossom shook her head.

“Mother said no,” she said firmly.  “Now, Dot, you’re too big a girl to cry.  Why, dearest, you haven’t missed a day since there has been sledding.  Can’t you and Twaddles find something pleasant to do in the house?”

“Just suppose you hadn’t any house to stay in,” remarked Twaddles severely.  “Then you’d have something to cry about.”

Twaddles was usually very good indeed just when Dot felt like being naughty.  And when Twaddles was bad, Dot was generally as good as gold.  But sometimes they were naughty together, and now and then as good as gold at the same time, but not often.

“There’s nothing to do,” sobbed Dot, using her pretty handkerchief to sop her tears with and finding it not half large enough.  “I’m tired of paper dolls and I don’t want to play school.  Oh, dear, oh, dear!”

Aunt Polly, coming into the room in search of her pet thimble, discovered the disconsolate Dot huddled on the sofa, and Twaddles standing by her suggesting one amusement after the other.

“Never mind, honey,” comforted Aunt Polly, sitting down on the sofa and cuddling Dot into her lap.  “I know something you haven’t done and that will be heaps of fun.”

“That I never did?” asked Dot, sitting up to look at Aunt Polly.

“That you’ve never done,” repeated Aunt Polly.

“Indoors or out?” asked Twaddles, standing on one foot excitedly.

“Out,” answered Aunt Polly.

“Mother won’t let me go out,” wailed Dot, the tears starting again.  “I think it’s mean.”

“Mean?” said Aunt Polly.  “Goodness, lambie, suppose you should be sick when we had the play and the fair?  No indeed, you mind Mother like a good girl and you’ll be glad when the cough is all gone.  But this thing I have in mind can nearly all be done in the house, and then we’ll get Sam and Twaddles to do the outdoor work.  Then, when Bobby and Meg come home this afternoon, maybe they won’t be surprised!”

Aunt Polly and Dot and Twaddles put their heads very close together and whispered for five minutes or so.  The twins were delighted at the idea of having a secret from Meg and Bobby who, of course, were often into things that did not interest or held no place for Dot and Twaddles.