"Oh, yes; I liked it well enough,
Although it used me pretty rough;
I lost a nose and foot and ear,
Last time I happened to come here."
"Do you always speak in rhyme?" asked Jimmieboy, noticing the snowman's habit for the first time.
"Always, except when I speak in prose," said the snowman. "But perhaps you don't like rhyme?"
"Yes, I do like rhyme very much," said Jimmieboy.
"Then you like me," said the snowman, "because I'm mostly rime myself. But say, don't stand there with the door open letting all the heat out into the world. If you want to talk to me come outside where we can be comfortable."
"Very well," said Jimmieboy. "I'll come, if you'll wait until I bundle up a little so as to keep warm."
"All right, I'll wait," the snowman answered, "only don't you get too warm. I'll take you up to where I live and introduce you to my boys if you like—only hurry. If a thaw should set in we might have trouble.
"Of all mean things I ever saw
The meanest of them is a thaw."
Jimmieboy, pondering deeply over his curious experience, quickly donned his overcoat and rubber boots, and in less time than it takes to tell it was out of doors again with the snowman. The huge white creature smiled happily as Jimmieboy came out, and taking him by the hand they went off up the road together.