Meg's lip quivered.
"I want my locket!" she sobbed, hiding her face against her father's
shoulder. "All the girls have lockets and mine was nicer than any of
them."
"Yes, it was," agreed Dot judicially, from her seat on the rug before
the fire. "It had such a cunning snap."
"I don't care about the snap," retorted Meg, sitting up and drying her
eyes on Father's nice big white handkerchief. "The forget-me-nots were
so lovely and besides it was great Aunt Dorothy's."
Father Blossom now proposed a plan.
"I'll advertise for your locket, Meg," he said. "We'll offer a reward,
and perhaps some one will find it. At any rate, it will encourage them
to look for it. Right after supper we'll get pencil and paper and
write out an advertisement for the _Oak Hill Herald_."
Father Blossom did not really believe that offering a reward for the
lost locket would bring it back. He thought likely that it was buried
under the deep snow beyond the sight of every one. But he knew that
Meg would feel better if she thought that everything possible was being
done to recover the pretty trinket.
After supper that night they wrote an advertisement, describing the
locket, telling where it was lost, and offering ten dollars reward to
the person who should bring it back. This advertisement was printed
for three weeks in the Oak Hill paper, but though a number of people
who read it did go out and scuffle about a bit in the snow on Wayne
Place hill, partly in the hope of earning the reward, partly with a
good-natured wish to help Meg, no one found the locket.
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