Each of the boys and girls took turns going up and down the ladder and each added some new beauty to the snowman. He had buttons on his waistcoat, and arms that crooked at the elbows—that was Polly’s idea. She had taken two pieces of old rubber hose and bent them to look like arms. The snow had been carefully packed around and over these.
Ward and Artie made the neck, and they all shaped the head with its peaked cap. Margy insisted that the initials were not to go on till the head was in place, and this proved a wise plan, for they dropped the head three times and had to do it over before Fred and Artie finally succeeded in putting it on the neck.
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” cried Polly, watching from the ground. “You have it turned all the way around! The poor snowman is looking backward.”
Slowly and carefully, Fred turned the head till it faced in the right direction. Then Margy handed up the letters cut from strips of red flannel, and Fred put them on the visor of the cap. The snowman had coal black eyes, a mouth like a red pepper, and ears that bore a resemblance to orange peel. He was very tall indeed—far taller than any of those who had made him—and when his makers looked at him they were agreed that he was quite the largest statue they had ever tried to build.
“If it’s cold to-night, we can throw water over it and let it freeze,” said Fred, standing off a little to admire his handiwork.
“There’s Carrie,” said Jess, in a low tone. “See her coming out? I guess she is going to the post-office.”
“What are you doing?” Carrie called, from across the street. “What’s that funny thing?”
Before they could answer her, she had crossed over and was staring at the snowman.
“Well, of all the queer things to do!” said Carrie. “Regular child play, I call it, building a snowman.”
“That’s some snowman you have there!” called a hearty voice, and Harry Worden crossed from the other side of the street. “I’ll take a picture of him to-morrow for you, when the sun is out. I don’t think I ever saw as large a one as that.”