Davis carried her home in triumph at the head of the procession; and after precautionary remedies had been taken, Rosella sat cosily tucked up in the big arm-chair in front of the huge log fire, thinking over all she had seen. Of course she confessed to her temptation to go astray, and was readily forgiven. Then, as Mr. Silverton insisted he had never in his life been any one else but himself, Rosella gaily recounted her meeting with the Snow Man at his Snow Castle. "And King Frost said, Grandfather," concluded Rosella, "that the credit of the Castle was his for providing the snow and not yours."
"Bless my soul!" cried old Mr. Silverton. "And he was right there, because I've had nothing to do with any Snow Castle or any Snow Man—there was some talk, but nothing came of it."
"But I was King Frost's visitor there, don't you see," insisted Rosella, smiling. "So I know that's only one of your jokes, Grandfather."
He smiled too and wiped his spectacles.
The next morning Rosella volunteered to fetch her grandfather and introduce him to King Frost. So the two climbed the hill. But no vestige of Snow Castle or Snow Man was there.
"There, you see!" said her grandfather, laughing, as he genially patted her on the cheek. How cold his hand felt! It nipped her with cold, so that she shivered. Yet the weather had changed, and it was more like a sunny day in spring than in midwinter.
She left old Mr. Silverton at his gate, and he assured her with a kiss that he wasn't a bit disappointed at the wonderful disappearance, but that it was all certainly a very remarkable affair indeed.
Rosella thought so too. Then she turned and walked thoughtfully home.