"Now don't get any snow down inside your collars," called Mrs. Martin to her children, as they went down the street.
"We won't!" they promised, and then they forgot all about it, and began snowballing one another with what little snow they could scrape up from the ground, which was now white with the newly-fallen crystals.
"I'm going to wash your face!" suddenly cried Ted to his sister.
"You are not!" she cried, and away she ran.
Meanwhile, Trouble Martin, which was the pet name for Baby William, the youngest of the family, sat in the dining-room window and laughed at the falling flakes and at his brother and sister going to school, romping on their way.
"There, I did wash your face!" cried Ted, as he finally managed to rub a little snow on his sister's cheek, making it all the redder. "I washed your face first this year!"
"I don't care. You got some down inside my collar and my neck's wet and I'm going to tell mother on you!"
"Oh, don't!" begged Ted. "I won't do it again, and I'll wipe your neck with my handkerchief."
"Well, maybe I won't tell if you don't do it again," promised Janet, while her brother got out his pocket handkerchief.
"Ouch! Oh!" cried Janet, as Teddy started to dry her neck. "Your handkerchief's all wet! It's got a lot of snow on it! Let me alone!" and she pushed him away.