CHAPTER XII: THE FIRST SNOW
"Look out the window, my lamb," Granny called one morning early inDecember. Maida opened her eyes, jumped obediently out of bed andpattered across the room. There, she gave a scream of delight,jumping up and down and clapping her hands.
"Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow at last!"
It looked as if the whole world had been wrapped in a blanket of thewhitest, fleeciest, shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, crossingswere all leveled to one smoothness. The fences were so muffled thatthey had swelled to twice their size. The houses wore trim, pointycaps on their gables. The high bushes in the yard hung to the veryground. The low ones had become mounds. The trees looked as if theyhad been packed in cotton-wool and put away for the winter.
"And the lovely part of it is, it's still snowing," Maida exclaimedblissfully.
"Glory be, it'ull be a blizzard before we're t'rough wid ut," Grannysaid and shivered.
Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. Few children came in tomake purchases that morning and the lines pouring into theschoolhouse were very shivery and much shorter than usual. At aquarter to twelve, the one-session bell rang. When the children cameout of school at one, the snow was whirling down thicker and fasterthan in the morning. A high wind came up and piled it in the mostunexpected places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. No motherwould let her children brave so terrific a storm.
It snowed that night and all the next morning. The second day fewerchildren went to school than on the first. But at two o'clock whenthe sun burst through the gray sky, the children swarmed thestreets. Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls to fly,sleigh-bells to tinkle.
Rosie came dashing into the shop in the midst of this burst ofexcitement. "I've shoveled our sidewalk," she announcedtriumphantly. "Is anything wrong with me? Everybody's staring atme."
Maida stared too. Rosie's scarlet cape was dotted with snow, herscarlet hat was white with it. Great flakes had caught in her longblack hair, had starred her soft brows--they hung from her veryeyelashes. Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral and her eyeslike great velvety moons.
"You look in the glass and see what they're staring at," Maida saidslyly. Rosie went to the mirror.
"I don't see anything the matter."
"It's because you look so pretty, goose!" Maida exclaimed.
Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed if anybody alluded to herprettiness. Now she leaped to Maida's side and pretended to beather.
"Stop that!" a voice called. Startled, the little girls looked up.Billy stood in the doorway. "I've come over to make a snow-house,"he explained.
"Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!" Maida exclaimed. "Waittill I get Arthur and Dicky!"
"Couldn't get many more in here, could we?" Billy commented when thefive had assembled in the "child's size" yard. "I don't know that wecould stow away another shovel. Now, first of all, you're to pileall the snow in the yard into that corner."
Everybody went to work. But Billy and Arthur moved so quickly withtheir big shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did nothing but hopabout them. Almost before they realized it, the snow-pile reached tothe top of the fence.
"Pack it down hard," Billy commanded, "as hard as you can make it."
Everybody scrambled to obey. For a few moments the sound of shovelsbeating on the snow drowned their talk.
"That will do for that," Billy commanded suddenly. His little forcestopped, breathless and red-cheeked. "Now I'm going to dig out theroom. I guess I'll have to do this. If you're not careful enough,the roof will cave in. Then it's all got to be done again."
Working very slowly, he began to hollow out the structure. After thehole had grown big enough, he crawled into it. But in spite of hisown warning, he must have been too energetic in his movements.Suddenly the roof came down on his head.
Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking the snow off as a dogshakes off water.
"Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man," Maida laughed.
"I feel like one," Billy said, wiping the snow from his eyes andfrom under his collar. "But don't be discouraged, my hearties, upwith it again. I'll be more careful the next time."
They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound ofsnow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick,hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them tooccupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their newdwelling.
"Run into the house," was his next order, "and bring out all thewater you can carry."
There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink firstbut in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthurwith a bucket, Dicky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maidawith a dipper.
"Now I'm going to pour water over the house," Billy explained. "Yousee if it freezes now it will last longer." Very carefully, hesprayed it on the sides and roof, dashing it upwards on the insidewalls:
"We might as well make it look pretty while we're about it," Billycontinued. "You children get to work and make a lot of snow-ballsthe size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out."
This was easy work. Before Billy could say, "Jack Robinson!" fourpairs of eager hands had accumulated snow-balls enough for a shambattle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with twotall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house andtrimmed it with snow-balls, all along the edge.
"Now I guess we'd better have a snow-man to live in this mansionwhile we're about it," Billy suggested briskly. "Each of you roll upan arm or a leg while I make the body."
Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. Helifted on to them the big round body which he himself had rolled.Putting the arms on was not so easy. He worked for a long timebefore he found the angle at which they would stick.
Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse forthe hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue.Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smoothcoals that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair ofexpressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peeland inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head wasset on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment.He came back carrying a suit-case. "Shut your eyes, every manjack ofyou," he ordered. "You're not to see what I do until it's done. If Icatch one of you peeking, I'll confine you in the snow-house forfive minutes."
The W.M.N.T.'s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids withresolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysteriouswork on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the mosttantalizing noises.
"Oh, Billy, can't I please look," Maida begged, jiggling up anddown. "I can't stand it much longer."
"In a minute," Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises keptup. "Now," Billy said suddenly.
Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked theirdelight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finallyrolled in the snow.
Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man's body. He had put a tallhat--Arthur called it a "stove-pipe"--on the snow-man's head.He had put an old black pipe between the snow-man's grinning,orange-colored teeth. Gloves hung limply from the snow-man's arm-stumpsand to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give thesnow-man's head a cock to one side. Altogether he looked so spruceand jovial that it was impossible not to like him.
"Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen," Billy said. "Some members ofthe W.M.N.T., Mr. Chumpleigh."
And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until--until--
Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eatingwhen an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie.
"Oh, Granny," she said, "the boys have made a most wonderful coastdown Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting untilnine o'clock if you'll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would,especially if Billy comes along."
"If Misther Billy goes, 'twill be all roight."
"O
h, Granny," Maida said, "you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!" Shewas so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the timeGranny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached thestreet, it seemed as if she must explode.
A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made thenight like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for thestreet and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds.
"It's like the 'Pied Piper', Rosie," Maida said joyfully, "childreneverywhere and all going in the same direction."
They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where HalliwellStreet sloped down the hill.
Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. "Great Scott, what acoast!" he said.
In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide andas smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound ofsnow served as a buffer.
"The boys have been working on the slide all day," Rosie said. "Didyou ever see such a nice one, Maida?"
"I never saw any kind of a one," Maida confessed. "How did they makeit so smooth?"
"Pouring water on it."
"Have you never coasted before, Maida?" Billy asked.
"Never."
"Well, here's your chance then," said a cheerful voice back of them.They all turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with what Maida soonlearned was a "double-runner."
Billy examined it carefully. "Did you make it, Arthur?"
"Yes."
"Pretty good piece of work," Billy commented. "Want to try it,Maida?"
"I'm crazy to!"
"All right. Pile on!"
Arthur took his place in front. Rosie sat next, then Dicky, thenMaida, then Billy.
"Hold on to Dicky," Billy instructed Maida, "and I'll hold on toyou."
Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemedas if they would never start. But at last, she heard Billy's voice,"On your marks. Get set! Go!" The double-runner stirred.
It moved slowly for a moment across the level top of the street.Then came the first slope of the hill--they plunged forward. Sheheard Rosie's hysterical shriek, Dicky's vociferous cheers andBilly's blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as alittle image. They struck the second slope of the hill--then shescreamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures inthe kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow herears off. They reached the third slope of the hill--and now they hadleft the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instantthe double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie andshe were hugging each other and saying, "Wasn't it GREAT?"
They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maidawatched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds,girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated infront, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on theice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contentedthemselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring littleboys who went down lying flat on their sleds.
At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on thedouble-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took alittle boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to thosewho had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at thetop of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunatechildren. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was sosmooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledlessones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One littlelad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed ona broom. Boxes and shingles and even dish-pans began to appear. Mostreckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landingin a heap in the snow.
Maida enjoyed every moment of it--even the long walks back up thehill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that haddrifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. Nobody washurt. Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in thesoft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice.Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turninground and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened.But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy wasmaking her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed sohard that she was weak when they reached the bottom.
"Oh, do let's do that again!" she said when she caught her breath.
Never was such a week as followed. The cold weather kept up.Continued storms added to the snow. For the first time in years camefour one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frostwere on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries ofsnow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as thechildren were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright assummer.
Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, "Iwonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day." Then she would run over to thewindow to see.
Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. Hewas so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peelgrin could look straight over the fence to the street. Thepassers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studyingthe phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally abad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr.Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. Inthe course of time, the "stove-pipe" became very battered and, asthe result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle ofhis cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintainhis genial grin.
"Let's go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh," Rosie would say every day.The two little girls would brush the snow off his hat and coat,adjust his nose and teeth, would straighten him up generally.
After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs all over Mr. Chumpleigh.Thereafter, the saucy little English sparrows ate from Mr.Chumpleigh's hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, even his pockets.
"Perhaps the snow will last all winter," Maida said hopefully oneday. "If it does, Mr. Chumpleigh's health will be perfect."
"Well, perhaps, it's just as well if he goes," Rosie said sensibly;"we haven't done a bit of work since he came."
On Sunday the weather moderated a little. Mr. Chumpleigh bore a mostmelancholy look all the afternoon as if he feared what was to come.What was worse, he lost his nose.
Monday morning, Maida ran to the window dreading what she might see.But instead of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful sight spreadout before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everythingthat had started to melt had frozen up again. The sidewalks wereliked frosted cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes around theroofs of the houses. The trees and bushes were glazed by a sheathingof crystal. The sunlight playing through all this turned the worldinto a heap of diamonds.
Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the influence of the cold. Hismanner had gained in solidity although his gaze was a little glassy.Hopefully Maida hunted about until she found his nose.
She replaced his old set with some new orange-peel teeth and stuckhis pipe between them. He looked quite himself.
But, alas, the sun came out and melted the whole world. Thesidewalks trickled streams. The icicles dripped away in showers ofdiamonds. The trees lost their crystal sheathing.
In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began to droop. By night his headwas resting disconsolately on his own shoulder. When Maida lookedout the next morning, there was nothing in the corner but a mound ofsnow. An old coat lay to one side. Strewn about were a hat, a pairof gloves, a pipe and a cane.
Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the night.