“Please, sir,” he said, drawing slowly closer, “please, sir, could you tell me—— Grandfather Joseph! Grandfather Joseph!”—and he flung his arms around Grandfather’s neck, the hot tears streaming down his cheeks. But how cold Grandfather was! The touch of Grandfather’s face against Philippe’s burned like ice.
“Watch out!” said Grandfather sharply, “You are so insufferably warm you will melt me, if I do not succeed in freezing you first. And, young Philippe, be careful the names you call people. Look carefully at me again; do you not know me?”
Philippe was doubtful. Surely it was Grandfather Joseph, and yet—Grandfather had never been so cold, nor so strange in his behavior. Did he know him?
“Yes—no,” answered Philippe, not being able to decide.
“Yes, Snow, that is right! I am Grandfather Snow.”
“It’s very upsetting!” remarked the puzzled boy.
“Is it?” replied Grandfather Snow coldly.
“But I may stay here with you, Grandfather? I was so frightened alone in the black night. I was out walking with Uncle Wind, and—and he seemed to disappear, and then I lost my way.”
“You may stay if you do not come too close. So Uncle Wind vanished, did he? Your Uncle Wind is a fickle, changeable, unreliable fellow, but he has a will of his own and will turn up in time. I am very dependent on Uncle Wind; I can do nothing but lie around, without him.”
“He is very nice, isn’t he, Grandfather?” ventured Philippe.