Mrs. Hayden partook only of a small cup of tea and was then assisted to her room, where she expected to remain for at least two days—the usual time. Her husband spent the evening rubbing her head, bathing it with camphor and keeping the house quiet as possible.
The next day dawned cloudy and grey, with a faint mildness in the air, indicating a thaw. Mabel went to school, Fred and Jamie amused themselves in the back parlor until they were tired and then flattened their noses against the window, trying to see how many drops of melted snow fell from the porch roof.
"I want a snow man," wailed Jamie, suddenly remembering what papa said about the snow long ago.
"Well, you can't have it," said Fred, with great decision, who generally opposed anything on principle.
"Yes, we can. We can go out and make one," persisted Jamie.
"Jack Frost'll bite your fingers."
"No he won't."
"He will—"
"He won't eever—"
"He will, 'cos mamma said so," said naughty Fred.