“Hey, Polly!” her brother shouted. “Come on over here! We’re firing at targets!”
Polly looked. The boys had tacked up an empty tin can on one of the trees in the school yard and they were firing snowballs into it—that is, if a snowball went into it, it counted a bull’s-eye.
“You watch me, Polly!” cried Artie, as Polly put her box down on the step and came running across the yard. “Bet you I hit it this time!”
He packed a firm, damp snowball, took careful aim, and fired.
“Did it!” he shrieked. “Told you so!”
Fred laughed and handed a ready-made ball to Polly.
“You try,” he said.
Polly stepped back a few feet, shut her eyes, and threw the ball. It struck the tree a few feet above the tin can.
“Don’t shut your eyes,” instructed Fred. “You want to aim. Here, try again,” and he gave her a second ball.
This time Polly hit the tree below the can. But her third trial was more successful, and the snowball went neatly into the can, scoring what Artie enthusiastically informed her was “a peach of a bull’s-eye.”