He descended with a certain stateliness of gait—gliding; then letting himself drop noiselessly over each step. Kitty perceived that this way of getting along was due to his having no feet—that his figure ended in a stump.
Down, down they went, the snow-man going before, Kitty following.
How still it was! Their footsteps made no noise. Not a breath stirred. Nothing was to be seen but those white stairs glimmering. Down—down.
Every now and then the snow-man panted.
“Hurry! hurry! I am melting!” and a morsel of him would disappear.
His nose went; his pipe went; one after another his features went, till the face he occasionally turned toward Kitty was a flat white face like a plate. One arm went. Still gliding, dropping noiselessly over each step, down went the snow-man, and Kitty followed.
As she followed she began to feel very vague. The lower she descended the less she could remember what she was going for. She was looking for something—something for Johnnie. But what was it? “What am I looking for?” she asked herself, shaking her head to shake off that dreaminess. “Is it that cake of gamboge?” No, it was not that. It was something else. Something she must find for Johnnie.
After awhile she thought she was going down for something she wanted for herself—something she must find.
“Oh, what is it I am looking for?” puzzled Kitty. “Is it that mince-pie?”