It was when Goran was patting a little fresh snow on the Snowman’s nose that he accidentally knocked his twig mouth off again. And this time it was put back right side up, so that the Snowman was as smiling as he had been in the beginning.
He stopped roaring. He stopped muttering. Did the fire die down? For the red sparks no longer gleamed in his gentle sky-blue eyes.
“Oh, thank you so much!” said the Snowman. “You have been so kind to me! And I know that you were trying to help me in the house. Forgive me for having been so cross! Will you please forgive me?”
And the Snowman looked so anxiously at Goran and the Queen and Nanna and Gustava that they all answered:
“Yes, yes, of course we will! And will you please forgive us for nearly melting you?”
“And now go in, for this lovely air is cold for you, I know.”
“Oh, it is bitter cold!” agreed the Queen. “Brr-rrr! It is bitter cold.”
Brr-rr! It was bitter cold!
Goran rubbed his eyes. Only a few red embers glowed in the fireplace. How stiff he was!
He must have slept in his chair all night, but he could not tell how late it was, for the Clock had stopped. He had forgotten to wind it, he remembered now.