Meg was always expected to name any new pet or a new doll, and why not a snowman, too? The three other children looked at her confidently, sure that she would be able to think of a name.
“His name,” said Meg slowly, “his name is—let me think a minute; oh, I guess his name is Mr. White!”
Father Blossom laughed and kissed her, and Bobby said he thought that was a splendid name.
“Are you going to stay home, Daddy?” asked Meg, clinging to Father Blossom. “Or are you going to take us somewhere?”
“Neither,” he answered promptly. “I came home to get some papers from my desk and then Sam is going to drive me over to Clifton; I’m not sure what condition the roads are in and I don’t think it wise to take anyone else. I’m glad you’re having such a good time.”
He went into the house and came out the back way again, in a few moments.
“Meg,” he called over his shoulder as he walked to the car, “why don’t you get Mr. White a hat to keep him from taking cold, and a pipe to keep his nose warm? He ought to have some comforts, you know.”
“Could we get him a hat?” asked Meg doubtfully. “Oh, Bobby, there’s Fred and Palmer and Bertrand. Don’t go off and play with them, please; stay and play with us.”
The three boys came into the yard and Dot disappeared toward the house. She had a way of slipping off when she thought of something she wanted to do.
“Gee, that’s a pretty good snowman,” said Fred, looking at Mr. White with great respect. “I think he’s the biggest one I ever saw.”