That night it turned a little colder, as it usually does, and the melting snow froze in little lace ruffles on the edges of the roofs. Riddle Chap had an icicle on what was left of his nose, and Polly was hopeful that he would stay as he was and not shrink any more. Alas! New Year’s Day dawned with a burst of sunlight that started the little streams running again, turned the coasting hill to a sea of slush, and hastened the sure disappearance of the once handsome Riddle Chap.
“It’s a good thing we have his picture,” said Polly, mournfully, at breakfast.
“You can build another snowman, when another snow comes,” said Mr. Marley, cheerfully.
But Polly said it wouldn’t be Riddle Chap, and of course no one could deny that.
However, it was impossible to feel sober on such a bright morning, and “Happy New Year!” sounded up and down Elm Road as the children greeted each other. School would open the day after to-morrow, and they were determined to have as much fun as possible before the holidays were definitely over.
Breakfast was barely finished when the Williamson car came down the road, bringing Mr. and Mrs. Williamson back to their home. They had much to tell about their visit in Rye and messages from “the old hermit,” as the youngsters still called Mr. Field, as well as from his sister, whom they had never seen, but who knew them quite well through Mr. Kirby’s and Mr. Adams’ descriptions. The two cousins had sent a large box of chocolates to be shared by the six chums.
“Mother thinks,” said Mr. Williamson, watching Artie trying to swallow a chocolate covered cherry that threatened to drown him in syrup, “that, since it is so warm to-day, we might drive out and see Mrs. Wicks.”
“Come on! Let’s go!” cried Fred. “We’ll take her some of the chocolates—maybe she likes candy.”
Mr. Williamson laughed.
“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “But, Fred, stop and consider the car a moment. It is a seven-passenger, but how am I going to pack twelve into the space reserved for seven?”