Joe took his sled and went back without a word. Harry Worden followed him to make sure that a truthful report was spread around, and Polly and Fred ploughed slowly up the road, at one side, pulling Margy on Fred’s sled.
“I didn’t mean to snap at you, Polly,” said Fred, a little shyly. “I guess I sounded pretty cranky.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” declared Polly, determined not to let him know he had hurt her feelings. “I didn’t mind that, Fred. But I saw Joe Anderson push you—I certainly did.”
“Well, you want to forget that and forget it for good,” said Fred, stopping in the snow and speaking very earnestly. “I don’t care if he tipped me off and rode over me. When I lose a race I’m not going to parade any excuses.”
“I’ll never say a word about it, Fred, if that’s the way you feel,” Polly promised. “But I do think boys are too queer for anything.”
“Of course they are,” observed Margy from her seat of state. “I’ve always said they were funny, but you would never believe it.”
For once in their lives, the children in River Bend had enough snow. After the coasters went home, more snow fell, and it continued to snow at intervals all night. As a result a whole new world, without a footprint from the day before left on it, was ready for inspection the next morning.
“Tell you what let’s do,” remarked Artie, as they came home from school at noon. “Build a snowman!”
“I don’t think that’s so much fun,” Margy maintained.
“Oh, I don’t mean just a snowman,” explained Artie. “Not one of those little ones the kids build. I mean a great, big giant of a snowman with a head higher than a house!”