the uneven ground with her eyes closed, crashed headlong into a wild blackberry bush.
"Oh, ow!" she wailed shrilly. "Meg, Meg! Ow!"
Her face and hands were scratched and bleeding and her dress was badly torn by the time Meg and Bobby got her free from the prickly bush.
"I won't go," sobbed the unfortunate child, rubbing her smarting face. "I'll lie down in the grass and the birds can cover me with leaves. Nasty old woods!"
"But you'll have to come," urged Bobby. "I don't b'lieve it's much further, Dot. Come on."
"Then I'll take off my shoes and stockings," said Dot.
"Her feet are all puffed up," said Meg, unbuttoning the little tan shoes. "Poor sister! But you can't go barefoot through here—the stones and things are too sharp."
"They'll cut you," said Twaddles, who was watching anxiously.
"Let's make a chair with our hands and carry her," suggested Bobby.
