You can climb up on a
snowdrift and reach them. I must have them to make some curls for our
little snow sister's head."
"Here they are, Violet," answered the little boy. "Take care you do
not break them. Oh, how pretty!"
"We must have some shining little bits of ice to make the brightness
of her eyes. She is not finished yet," Violet went on.
"Here they are," cried Peony. "Mother, mother! Look out and see what a
nice little girl we have made!"
Their mother put down her work for an instant and looked out of the
window. She was dazzled by the sun that had sunk almost to the edge of
the world so she could not see the garden very distinctly. Still,
through all the brightness of the sun and the snow, she saw a strange,
small white figure in the garden. Peony was bringing fresh snow, and
Violet was moulding it as a sculptor adds clay to his model.
"They do everything better than other children," their mother thought.
"No wonder they make better snow images."
She sat down again to her work, and Violet and Peony talked about
what a nice playmate their little snow sister would be for them all
winter. Suddenly Violet called out joyfully:
"Look, Peony! Come quickly! A light has been shining on her cheek from
that rose-colored cloud, and the color does not go away.
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