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By Hamilton Wright Mabie (editor)
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They seemed positively to think that the snow-child would run about and play with them. ” said Violet. “I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold! ” cried Peony. ” answered Violet, with grave wisdom. “That will not do at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snowsister. Little snow-people, like her, eat nothing but icicles. ” There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs were never weary, had gone on a pilgrimage again to the other side of the garden.
Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek out of that rose-coloured cloud! And the colour does not go away! ” “Yes; it is beau-ti-ful,” answered Peony, pronouncing the three syllables with deliberate accuracy. “O Violet, only look at her hair! ” “O, certainly,” said Violet, with tranquillity, as if it were very much a matter of course. “That colour, you know, comes from the golden clouds, that we see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. But her lips must be made very red - redder than her cheeks.
Well done! ” said Violet, with a very satisfied tone; “and now we must have some little shining bits of ice, to make the brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how very beautiful she is; but papa will say, ‘Tush! Nonsense! ’“ “Let us call mamma to look out,” said Peony; and then he shouted lustily, “Mamma! Mamma!! Mamma!!! ” The mother put down her work, for an instant, and looked out of the window. But it so happened that the sun - for this was one of the shortest days of the whole year - had sunken so nearly to the edge of the world, that his setting shine came obliquely into the lady’s eyes.
A Collection of Classic Stories for Children by Hamilton Wright Mabie (editor)