Polly took Peter to the great pile of snow by the side of the road.
"There is our house," she said. "It is all made for us."
"That isn't any house, Polly. I think I won't play with you to-day. You tease me. I am going to see Tim. Good-by."
"O Peter! Wait, wait! I won't tease. I will tell you about it now. That is our house really and truly. But it is just the outside.
"We must make a hole in the pile for a door. Then we must dig out the inside. Can't we do that, Peter?"
Peter said, "Oh, yes. We can do that. I see about it now. I will help. We can dig very well.
"We dug our cyclone hole last summer. Perhaps we shall find another box with silver dollars in it."
"Perhaps we shall not, too," said Polly. "I don't expect to find things in the snow. People hide their gold and silver in the ground.
"The ground does not melt. Snow does. So it would not hide their gold and silver very long."