“About the sled—­it isn’t mine,” said Mr. Mendam.  “I think we’d better have that on the lost and found board.  Do you want to write the notice?”

“We’d rather you did it,” Bobby answered politely.  “I can write, but some folks can’t read it.”

Mr. Mendam wrote busily on a sheet of paper and then read aloud what he had written.

“Found—­a sled on the Hill Road,” he read.  “Finder may have same by describing and making application at the post-office window.”

“There—­we’ll paste that up and the child who is short one sled may see it and get it back,” said Mr. Mendam and he pasted the slip of paper on the bulletin board which hung over the desk where he had been writing.

“I’m pretty lucky to get my glove back, eh, Carter?” he said to the clerk.  “Would you believe it, I was just going to write out a notice for the board myself, offering a reward for the return of it.  And here it is placed in my hand.  What do you think the reward should be, Carter?”

“Something pretty handsome, sir,” answered the clerk, smiling.

The four little Blossoms looked uncomfortable.

“We don’t want any reward, thank you, Mr. Mendam,” said Bobby bravely.  “We just found the glove lying in the snow—­Twaddles found it.”

“But I’d like to do something for you,” the stout old gentleman insisted.  “If you won’t take a real reward—­and I had intended offering ten dollars for the return of the glove—­tell me something I can do for you.”

“There’s the fair,” whispered Meg, but Mr. Mendam heard her.

“Fair?” he said briskly.  “What fair?  Where?  Do you want me to come and buy things?  Tell me where it is and I’ll come and bring my daughter.”

But when Meg rather shyly said the fair was to be given in Oak Hill and not for a week or two, Mr. Mendam shook his head.

“I’ll be away then,” he explained.  “My daughter and I are going to Montreal for the winter sports.  But why don’t you let me give you the ten dollars for the fair?  That will be just the same as though I had come there and bought that much.”

Meg looked uncertainly at Bobby.

“Maybe Mother won’t like it,” she said.

But Bobby was sure she wouldn’t care and when he told Mr. Mendam about Paul Jordan and his mother and that the fair was for them, Mr. Mendam, too, was sure Mother Blossom wouldn’t mind.

“You put this in your pocket,” he told Bobby, handing him a folded bill.  “Mind you don’t lose it.  And if your mother, for any reason, isn’t willing for you to keep it, you may send it back and I will not be offended.”

Bobby put the money away carefully, down deep in his pocket, and then Mr. Mendam said he was thirsty and wouldn’t they go with him to the drug store and have an ice-cream soda?

“I never saw a day too cold for ice-cream soda—­did you?” he added, smiling.

“We promised Sam to stay here till he came for us,” Meg explained regretfully, for she was very fond of soda.