"It's a man!" cried Ted, who had run in from his room. "Oh, Daddy, there's a man in Jan's bed!" he shouted down the stairs.
"It can't be—it isn't large enough for a man!" said Mrs. Martin, who was going toward the gas jet to turn it higher.
Her husband dropped the paper he had been reading as the children were getting ready for bed, and came racing up the stairs. Into Jan's room he went, and, as he entered, Mrs. Martin turned the light on so that it shone more brightly.
Daddy Martin gave one look into Jan's bed and then began to laugh.
"Oh, Daddy! what is it?" cried the little girl. "Is it a man in my bed?"
"Yes," answered her father, still laughing. "But it's a very little man, and he couldn't hurt anybody."
"Not if he was a—a burglar?" asked Ted in a whisper.
"No; for he's only a snow man!" laughed Mr. Martin.
"A snow man!" exclaimed Mrs. Martin.
"A snow man in my bed!" gasped Jan. "How did he get there?"