Four Little Blossoms at Oak Hill School

"Let's make a bay window for the front," suggested Bobby, dragging up a rocking-chair and tumbling his younger brother, Twaddles, out of the way.

"How do you make a bay window?" demanded Twaddles, whom no amount of pushing out of the way could subdue for long; he simply came in again.

"This way," said Bobby.

He tipped the rocking-chair over on its side and turned the curved back so that it fenced in a space between two straight chairs. Looking through the carved rounds, if you had a very good imagination, it really did seem something like a bay window.

"Now, see?" said Bobby, proud as an architect should be. 8

"But every house has a chimney," protested Twaddles. "Where's the chimney?"

Before Bobby could possibly invent a chimney, Meg and Dot, the two boys' sisters, came into the room, each carrying a doll.

"Wait till Norah sees you!" announced Meg severely. "My goodness, piling up the furniture like this! Mother will scold if you scratch that rocking-chair."

"What you making?" asked Dot, her dark eyes beginning to dance. "Let me help, Bobby?"

Bobby sat down gloomily on the edge of the rocking-chair.

"I was building a house," he answered. "Mother said we could 'muse ourselves quietly in the house. This is quiet, isn't it? What's the use of having furniture if a fellow can't make something with it?"

"Well, I s'pose if you put it all back before supper, it's all right," admitted Meg, rather dubiously. "Only you know sometimes you do scratch things, Bobby."

Bobby waived this aside. He had other, more important thoughts. 9

"I was just going to fix the chimney," he explained. "See, this is the door, Meg, an' over here's the bay window. But we have to have people. People always live in houses. Don't you want to put Geraldine and what's-her-name in 'fore I put the chimney on?"

Dot, who was the doll Geraldine's mother, clutched her closely, while Meg quickly picked up her doll from the couch where she had laid her.

"There won't anything hurt 'em," protested Bobby earnestly. "Go on, put 'em in––please, Meg."

Meg seldom could resist anything Bobby asked of her, and Dot was always ready to follow her older sister's lead. So Geraldine and Mary Maud were placed inside the tower of chairs and stools and rugs that Bobby and Twaddles called their house, and the architect set himself to work to construct the chimney.

The children who were so busily employed in the pleasant living-room this rainy September afternoon were known to all their friends as "the four little Blossoms." 10

There was a Father Blossom and a Mother Blossom, of course, and when you were introduced to the children separately––though the four were usually to be found, as Norah, the good-natured maid, said, "right in a bunch"––you met Robert Hayward Blossom, always known as Bobby, seven years old and as devoted a brother to six-year-old Margaret Alice as you would ever find. Margaret was much better known as Meg.

Then came the twins, Dot and Twaddles. And a pair they were, into everything and remarkable for the ease with which they managed to get out of scrapes for which they were generally responsible. The twins were four years old, dark-haired and dark-eyed, while Bobby and Meg had blue eyes and yellow hair.

The Blossoms lived in the pretty town of Oak Hill, and they knew nearly every one. Indeed the children had never been away from Oak Hill till the visit they had made to their Aunt Polly, about which you may have read in the book called "Four Little Blossoms at Brookside Farm." They had spent the summer with Aunt 11 Polly, and had made many new friends and learned a great deal about animals. Meg, especially, loved all dumb creatures. And now that you are acquainted with the four little Blossoms, we must get back to that chimney.

"The umbrella rack will do," suggested Twaddles suddenly.

He ran out into the hall and dragged the rack in.

"That's fine," said Bobby enthusiastically. "Come on, Twaddles, help me lift it up."

Strangers always thought that Twaddles was such an odd name. Perhaps it was; and certainly no one knew how the small boy had acquired it. "Twaddles" he was though, and he himself almost forgot that he had a "real" name, which was Arthur Gifford. His twin was never called Dorothy, either, but always "Dot." Dorothy Anna Blossom was the whole of Dot's name.

Twaddles now heaved and tugged, trying to help Bobby lift the heavy umbrella rack. He was elated that he had thought of it, and not for 12 worlds would he have admitted that it was exceedingly heavy to lift.

"There!" said Bobby, when they had it finally in place. "How's that for a house?"

"It's perfectly–––" Meg began.

She meant to say "perfectly wonderful," but just then Twaddles jumped down to the floor from the pile. In doing this he jarred the wonderful structure, and with a crash that could be heard all over the house, umbrella rack, stools, chairs and rugs slithered together in a complete wreck.

"Geraldine!" shrieked Dot. "She'll be smashed and killed!"

"For the love of mercy, what are ye doing now?" The long-suffering but not always patient Norah stood in the doorway. "Bobby, what are ye up to the minute your mother turns her back? Is Dot hurt? What's she crying for?"

Norah always asked a great many questions, and it was of no use, as the children had learned from experience, to try to answer her till she had had her say.

"What are ye trying to do?" asked Norah 13 again. "'Tis fine and peaceful the summer has been with ye all at Brookside. And now the minute you're home again, the house must be torn down about our ears."

"We were building a house, Norah," explained Bobby. "We're going to put everything back when we're through. Oh, hush, Dot, Geraldine isn't hurt."

To prove it, Bobby crawled in under the wreckage and dragged out the smiling Geraldine apparently uninjured. But as Dot took the doll in her arms a dreadful thing happened.

Geraldine's head tumbled off!

The four little Blossoms gasped with horror, and even Norah was startled. Then, as Dot's mouth opened for a loud wail, Meg came to the relief of every one.

"Daddy can mend it, Dot," she urged earnestly. "See, it is cracked right across and there aren't any chips out. 'Member how he mended Mother's china cup and she can wash it in hot water and everything? Can't she, Norah?"

"Sure then, she can," said Norah heartily. "Don't go crying now, Dot; the doll can be 14 mended as fine as ever. Put up the furniture like good children, do. Your mother will be coming home any minute."

Poor little Dot tried to stop crying, and the four youngsters rather solemnly set about the task of leaving things as they had found them, which, as you know yourself, isn't half as much fun as getting them out to play with. However, everything was in its place before Mother Blossom came home, and after supper that night Father Blossom put some of his wonderful cement on Geraldine's neck, and over night her head, as Dot said, "grew on beautifully and tight."

"I wish we had a cat," said Meg the next morning, as she and Bobby went out to the garage to carry their dog's breakfast to him.

Meg had made the same wish nearly every morning for the last year.

"Well, we have a dog," Bobby pointed out reasonably. "And you know Norah can't bear cats."

Philip, the dog, came leaping to meet them, and he was followed by Sam Layton, the man 15 who ran the automobile for the Blossoms and cut the lawn and did all the hundred and one useful jobs that are always waiting to be done.

"Why, Sam!" Meg's voice rose in a surprised cry. "Why, Sam, what a perfectly lovely cat! Whose is it, and where did it come from? Let me hold her."

Sam put the soft bundle of gray fur into Meg's arms, and Philip sat down on the grass and tried to look patient. He foresaw that he would have to wait for his breakfast.

"She's your cat," Sam announced. "Leastways, I told Norah when you got home you were to have her. Her name is Annabel Lee."

"Annabel Lee!" repeated the astonished Meg. "Did you name her, Sam?"

"I certainly did," answered Sam proudly. "Your father read me one of your letters where you said your Aunt Polly's cat was named 'Poots'; and I said then and there our cat was going to have a poetry name. And she's got it."

"It's a very nice name," said Bobby. "But does Norah know we have a cat?"

Whenever the four little Blossoms had teased 16 for a cat, Norah had always flatly declared she wouldn't have one within a mile of her kitchen; and the children knew that a cat that was never allowed in a kitchen could not expect to be happy. So they had managed to get along without such a pet.

"This cat," announced Sam mysteriously, "was sent for by Norah. She wants it. In fact, she as much as said she wouldn't stay if your father didn't get a cat."

* * *

SCHOOL SUPPLIES

"Norah wanted a cat!" repeated Meg unbelievingly. "But why? I thought she hated cats, Sam."

"Mice," said Sam. "Traps no good. But Annabel Lee is clearing 'em out, all right. She's a fine mouser. And the prettiest manners! You put the dish down and watch her and Fill-Up eat together."

Meg found it rather trying that Sam would insist on calling the dog she had named Philip by such an impolite title, but Sam always had his way about such things. Meg put down the dish with Philip's breakfast in it, and he and the cat ate together as though they had been friends all their lives.

"Meg, Meg!" called Dot, running toward them. "Miss Florence is here, and Mother says you must come in right away and try on. Oh, whose cat?"

"That's Annabel Lee," said Meg. "She's our 18 cat. Sam got her 'cause mice were in the kitchen. I'm going to take her in and show her to Miss Florence."

"Let me hold her," begged Dot. "You have to try on. Look, Twaddles, bet you didn't know we had a cat."

Twaddles stopped short on his kiddie-car.

"Don't tell Norah," he whispered cautiously. "Take her in the front door and she won't know. Did Mother say we could have a cat?"

Bobby laughed.

"Norah asked for a cat," he said. "Come on, Twaddles, let's teach Philip to jump through a hoop. The girls are going to fuss with clothes."

Meg tossed her yellow hair out of her eyes importantly.

"I have to have the hems of some dresses let down," she declared. "I grew in the country. Mother says so. 'Sides when you go to school you have to be neat."

"Nina Mills isn't neat," argued Dot, toiling upstairs after Meg, and holding Annabel Lee's long tail so that she might feel she was having 19 a share in carrying her. "She goes to school, Meg."

"Well, she's a sight," pronounced Meg. "Mother wouldn't let me look the way Nina Mills does. Look, Miss Florence, we got a cat."

"If you say 'got a cat' in school, Meg, I'm sure something will happen to you," warned Mother Blossom, bending over the sewing machine. "Miss Florence wants to try the green dress on you, dear."

Miss Florence Davis was the little dressmaker who went about making clothes for many of the people who lived in Oak Hill. Every one liked her, and she was always as happy as busy folk usually are.

"What a beautiful cat," she said, stroking Annabel Lee's fur. "Now I'm sure you're contented, Meg, with a cat and a dog. Aren't you?"

"And she's going to school, too," announced Dot enviously, sitting down on the floor to watch Meg as she put on the new green dress. "Here, Annabel, come sit in my lap."

The cat curled up in Dot's lap and purred loudly. 20

"Do you want to go to school?" asked Miss Florence sympathetically, taking a mouthful of pins and kneeling down to pin up the hem of Meg's frock.

"Twaddles and I both want to go," answered Dot. "But that mean old school won't let you come till you're five––not even to kindergarten. Did you swallow any?"

"Any what?" asked Miss Florence absently, still pinning the hem.

"Pins," said Dot interestedly. "I counted three I thought you did. Will they hurt?"

Meg looked down at Miss Florence anxiously.

"Bless your heart, I didn't swallow any pins!" declared the little dressmaker, smiling. "It's a bad trick, though, and I always mean to break myself of it. There, Dot, I've taken every one out of my mouth. And now walk over by the door, Meg, and let your mother see if that is the right length."

"Turn 'round slowly," ordered Dot, as Meg reached the door. Dot had watched a great many dresses being fitted and she knew exactly what one should do. 21

Meg laughed, and began to revolve slowly.

"I think that is a very good length," said Mother Blossom. "We shan't need her again till after lunch, shall we, Miss Florence? I want her to go uptown and get some elastic for her hat."

"And the school things, Mother?" urged Meg. "Can Bobby and I buy our school things this morning?"

"Do you know what you want?" asked Mother Blossom. "I saw Miss Mason yesterday, and she said you don't need very many things, Meg."

"Oh, Mother, Twaddles and I need some crayons," said Dot, tumbling Annabel Lee out of her lap, much to that sleepy animal's surprise and disapproval. "And a pencil box with a lock, Mother."

"You're not going to school," retorted Meg. "Is she, Mother?"

Mother Blossom put down her sewing.

"I don't see why my twinnies are so eager to go to school," she said sadly. "What in the wide world should I do if all my children went off to school and left me alone? Perhaps, Dot, you 22 and Twaddles and I can have our own kindergarten after Meg and Bobby get nicely started."

"With a blackboard?" demanded Dot. "And inkwells and a cloak room, Mother?"

Mother Blossom and Miss Florence laughed.

"I begin to think the other children are the attraction, not school," said Mother Blossom. "However, Meg must run along if she is to be back by lunch time. I'll give you and Bobby each fifty cents, dear. And suppose Dot and Twaddles have a quarter each to spend? Going to school without a shiny new pencil box isn't to be thought of, I'm sure."

Meg and Dot ran downstairs and found Twaddles and Bobby had tired of teaching Philip to jump through a hoop, and were busily cracking stones in the driveway.

"Some of 'em might be valuable," said Bobby, when Meg asked him why he was doing that. "I heard a boy talking about it once. Might have gold or iron ore in."

"Well, we're going uptown to buy elastic and school things," said Meg. "Mother gave me the 23 money in this purse. Fifty cents is for you, and the twins can spend a quarter."

The four little Blossoms set off on their errand, and Philip tagged along after them. He wasn't interested in school supplies, but he dearly loved a walk.

"I'll get the 'lastic first," decided Meg, when they reached the street where most of the Oak Hill stores were. "Don't buy anything till I get that."

The others waited while the elastic was measured and wrapped, and after Meg had paid for it they went over to the fascinating counter where all the things one needs in school were displayed.

"Hello!" said a girl who was looking at a blank book when the four little Blossoms came up. "You been away?"

This was Nina Mills. She was an untidy looking child and her hands were not very clean. But she smiled pleasantly enough.

"We've been in the country," Meg informed her, as Bobby and Twaddles and Dot apparently 24 couldn't find anything to say. "We went to see our Aunt Polly."

"Oh," said Nina Mills. "That's nice. I wish I could go off on visits. You coming to school Monday?"

"Bobby and I are," Meg answered. "The twins are too little."

The twins frankly scowled. How they did hate being "too young" to do so many things they wished to do.

"Yes, they're too little," agreed Nina Mills. "You'll be in Miss Mason's room. So'm I. I'm in Bobby's class. Well, I guess I have to go now. Good-by."

"Good-by," said the four little Blossoms awkwardly.

"Now hurry up and let's get our things 'fore any one else comes," proposed Bobby, who did not like to talk to people he did not know very well. "I'm going to buy this ruler that folds up, Meg."

Meg was busy trying a key in a pencil box.

"It's fifty cents and I can't get anything else, but look at all the things in it," she said. "Pencils 25 and rubbers and pens. I guess I'll take this one."

The twins were examining a box of crayons and Dot was sure that she could learn to write only with the box that held the most colors.

"An' I want two blotting papers, pink and blue," she told the good-natured saleswoman. "An' a pencil with a blue stone in it."

"I'll take these chalk ones," decided Twaddles, choosing a box of soft, chalky crayons. "I'd like a bottle of glue, too, and a red book."

The red book was a little cash account book such as Twaddles had seen Father Blossom use.

With their parcels neatly tied up, the four little Blossoms started back home, Philip trotting on ahead.

"Let's walk around by the school," suggested Meg. "It's only the next block and we've plenty of time."

"All right, let's," assented Bobby. "I'll show you Miss Mason's room."

* * *

STARTING SCHOOL

"You see," explained Bobby, as the children turned down the street that led past the schoolhouse, "primary school isn't so awfully important. That's why the grammar and high school got the new building; I heard old Hornbeck say so."

"You shouldn't call him old Hornbeck," said Meg reprovingly. "Mother says it isn't respectful."

Bobby didn't answer, for they had reached the primary school building and he was busy counting windows to find Miss Mason's room. The Oak Hill primary grades occupied an old building on a corner lot, while the grammar and high schools were housed in a handsome modern building a few blocks away, with a playground and even an extra lot for the school gardens. But the primary children really had a better time by themselves, and were certainly spared a great amount of teasing. 27

"–––Five, six," finished Bobby. "There––see the sixth window on the second floor? That's our room, Meg."

Meg gazed interestedly at the window that looked exactly like all the other windows and yet was different to her because it was a part of the schoolroom she had never seen.

"Is Miss Mason cross, Bobby?" she asked timidly.

"Not always," said Bobby encouragingly. "Course if you whisper or giggle, or chew chewing gum–––My! how she does hate chewing gum," he added. "But most times she is nice. And you ought to hear her read stories!"

Miss Mason taught two sections of the first and second years, and so it happened that Meg would be in the same room with Bobby, although this was her first year at school and his second. Last year Meg had gone to a small private kindergarten, but she was very eager to go to what she called a "real school."

"I think it's mean we can't go," complained Twaddles, scuffing his feet moodily as Bobby 28 and Meg went on ahead. "We wouldn't hurt their old school!"

"Maybe they'll be sorry," said Dot. "Some day they'll want us to go to school and we won't!"

Lunch was ready when the four little Blossoms reached home, and after lunch more dresses were waiting for Meg to try on. Miss Florence came and sewed another day, and then, finally, the first morning of the school term arrived.

"I hear this is a very important day," announced Father Blossom smilingly at breakfast. "Don't tell me it is a birthday, and I've forgotten all about it!"

Meg dimpled.

"'Tisn't a birthday, Daddy," she declared.

Father Blossom pretended to be very much worried.

"I know it isn't Christmas," he said anxiously, "because it isn't cold enough. And it can't be the Fourth of July. What day is it, Meg?"

"The first day of school!" pronounced Meg triumphantly. "And I'm going. See, I have 29 on a new dress, and here's my pencil case, and my hat has new elastic–––"

"Well! well! well!" exclaimed Father Blossom, "is it possible? My eldest daughter old enough to go to school! I suppose in another year or so the twins will be clamoring for pencil cases and we won't have any children who have time to play."

"I could go to school now," scolded Twaddles, "only everybody says I'm too young."

"Never mind," said Father Blossom comfortably. "You've years of school ahead of you, Son. Does Mother have to go this morning?"

"No indeed," answered Mother Blossom cheerfully. "I've already seen Miss Mason about Meg, and as she is going to be in the same room with Bobby, he will look after her. And if you don't want to be late the first morning, children, I think you should start in a few minutes."

The whole family followed Meg and Bobby to the door to see them off, and even Norah left her morning work to wave good-by to them. Philip and Annabel Lee and Sam were standing 30 in the garage door to see them go, and altogether the two scholars felt rather important.

"There's Fred Baldwin," said Bobby, spying a boy just ahead of them. "He's in my grade. Hey, Fred!"

The boy turned and waited for them to come up with him.

"Hello," he said shyly, "going to school, Bobby?"

"Sure," replied Bobby. "Here is my sister Meg."

Fred and Meg said "Hello," and the three walked along rapidly toward the schoolhouse.

"Did you have Miss Mason last year?" Fred asked.

"Yes. You had Miss Watts, didn't you?" said Bobby. "Is she cross?"

"Awful," confided Fred sadly. "I'll bet I stayed in three nights a week regular."

His dancing black eyes seemed to say that he had had a good time in school, no matter if he had been kept in; indeed Fred was a mischievous-looking child, and his own mother was inclined 31 to think, as she often told him, that Miss Watts probably could tell another story.

"I have to take Meg up and let her get her seat," announced Bobby when they reached the school yard. "You coming?"

Fred thought he would stay down and see some of the boys.

"I don't care where I sit," he explained. "And if you go in late most all the front seats have been given out. I'd rather sit in the back of the room."

So you see Fred did have a choice, though he said, and probably honestly thought, he did not.

Meg followed Bobby upstairs and into a large square room half filled with chattering children. A gray-haired lady was speaking to the young woman who stood near a desk on a small platform.

"That's Miss Wright, the vice-principal," whispered Bobby, indicating the gray-haired woman. "Mr. Carter, over at the grammar school, is the real principal. If you're real bad, Miss Wright sends for him. But she opens assembly and like-a-that." 32

Presently Miss Wright went out, and Bobby led Meg up to the teacher.

"This is my sister Meg," he said politely. "She hasn't any seat yet."

"How do you do, Margaret?" said Miss Mason, smiling. "Your name is really Margaret, isn't it? I like to use my pupils' full names. I'm sorry your sister can't sit with you, Robert, but I can't mix the grades. You may have any seat on this aisle, Margaret."

Poor Meg found it most confusing to be called Margaret, and was almost startled to hear Bobby addressed as "Robert." Father Blossom occasionally called him that, but only when he meant to scold him. But Meg sensibly supposed that when one went to school there were a number of new things to get used to, and it seemed that names were to be among them.

She chose a seat half-way down the aisle and in a direct row with Bobby's, which was on the other side of the room. And by the time she had made her choice and put away her pencil box, Miss Mason announced that it was five minutes of nine and that no child should leave the room. 33

Clang! A harsh gong rang through the halls. Clang! Clang!

The noise in the school yard ceased with a suddenness that was surprising. The gong rang again and a trampling and scuffling through the halls announced that the boys and girls were marching up to their classrooms. Miss Mason took her place at the door, and as a long line marched into her room she directed them where to sit. Meg wondered what she was to do with her hat.

"Beginning with the first aisle, the girls may go to the cloak room and hang up their hats," announced Miss Mason, just as if Meg had spoken aloud. "Then after all the girls have returned, the boys may go, aisle by aisle. And I want no whispering or unnecessary delay."

Before the last of the boys had found a hook for his cap, clang! went the gong again and a piano some distance away sounded a lively march.

"Stand!" said Miss Mason. "Margaret, you may lead the line. Come here." Meg stood quietly. 34

"Margaret Blossom!" and this time Miss Mason's voice sounded impatient. "Is the child dreaming? You're holding back the whole room."

Meg blushed and came forward hastily. To tell the truth, she had not realized that Miss Mason was speaking to her––the unfamiliar "Margaret" bewildered her.

"Take your place here," commanded Miss Mason, pushing her gently into a place in the doorway. "And when you see the last child leave that room opposite, wheel in after her and follow to the auditorium."

Meg looked around for Bobby. He was near the end of the long line that had formed around the sides of the room, and when he caught his sister's eye he grinned and nodded encouragingly to her.

"You'll do all right," he seemed to say.

* * *