One of the old-fashioned snow-storms came two weeks before the Christmas holidays scattered the girls far and wide to spend the happy fortnight at home. It was not a quiet, decorous downfall of snow that covered the earth smoothly with a glaze of white, but a roistering, turbulent storm that piled drifts to marvelous heights in sheltered corners and reared miniature Alpine ranges against the almost submerged fences. The road was quite impassable early in the day, and not one of the day-scholars could get to school. This had happened once during the previous winter, and on that occasion the usual lessons were given up and the time filled with some unusual exercises. This time Mrs. Abbott put it to vote after opening school, and every hand was raised in favor of having a literary morning in place of the ordinary recitations. The teachers were pleased to have it so; for it was hard on the absent scholars to miss all the studies of a day. Miss Blake, whose talent as an elocutionist was extraordinary, recited a stirring historical poem, which was rapturously received. Then Mrs. Abbott asked each girl to write the name of her favorite heroine of history on a slip of paper, to drop into a box that was carried around by one of the girls.

An examination of the slips showed that although a number of names had been put down two names were repeated on several papers. These were Joan of Arc and Marie Antoinette. Then the girls were asked to vote again on both those names. The result was that the unfortunate queen was selected, and Miss Blake, who always heard the history classes, read them a short, pathetic sketch of her life, with its early frivolity and pitiful, brave ending. Then she asked the girls to each write a short statement of the account she had read. Not less than three lines, not more than fifteen, was the limit, and pencils were very busy for a short time. Then the papers, which were not signed, were gathered up and read aloud.

The girls enjoyed the reading of the papers very much; for not even the teachers knew who wrote them; so there was no shame felt if comment or criticism were made, and a girl had only to control her face and look unconscious and no one would suspect her. Of course, some papers were very meager, but others were quite interesting outline sketches. It almost seemed like a game, but it fixed the facts very firmly in every girl’s mind, and Mrs. Abbott half made up her mind to introduce the plan as a regular weekly exercise.

The sun was shining brilliantly on the glistening snow, and when they had finished dinner Mrs. Abbott told them to prepare for a snow frolic in the inclosure, saying she had ordered their snow-shovels and rubber boots brought to the back piazza in readiness for them.

Edward had shoveled paths to the back and front gate, and, seeing the wall of ice and snow through which he had cut, Bell exclaimed, “Who’s for building a snow-fort?”

Most of them hailed the idea jubilantly, but Delia and Katie had just been reading Hawthorne’s lovely “Snow Image,” and suggested molding a beautiful white child.

“Perfectly sweet!” said Lily. “How nice in you to think of it! Where shall we build her?”

“I should think she ought to be standing in the grove; she will look shadowy and fairy-like under the trees with evergreens behind her.” “This is nice kind of snow, it packs well,” said Lida Evertson; “but how can we make a girl?”

“Easy enough,” said Katie. “We made General Washington once, and put a paper cocked hat on him. He was fine, only we got his feet longer than his legs.”

“Let’s get the book and see how a snow-girl ought to look,” suggested Lily.

A look at the graceful, humanized snow image showed the manifest impossibility of imitating it successfully.

“But even if we cannot make a willowy fairy like that,” said Lily, “we can make something. If a woman made a charming face in butter—Iolanthe, she called it, didn’t she?—I think we ought to be able to work up something nice in snow.”

“Suppose we drag one of the rustic chairs under a tree and make a sitting-down figure of a girl,” said Marion, who was rosy and happy in the out-door sport which reminded her of home.

“Capital! the chair will help to hold her up. Let’s have her a queen and fix up an ice crown,” said Katie.

Edna, who systematically sneered at whatever proposal Marion made, laughed at the idea, but no one seemed to notice her disapproval, and soon she, too, grew interested and helped.

They had to get Edward’s help to dig the chair out of the snow that quite buried it, and set it against a large-trunked maple. Then they worked with a will, till they had made a very fair semblance of a large woman sitting down, with her skirts spread out and her arms resting on the arms of the chair.

“Whoever best understands the mysterious science of noses shall put that important feature on Queen Blanche’s pale face,” said Lily, whose own face, from exertion, was red as a peony.

“I think, as Edna draws best of any of us, and molds such pretty things in clay, she had better give the White Queen a nose,” said Marion, timidly; and for once, so soothing is flattery, Edna was pleased, and smiled quite graciously upon her, and succeeded, after several efforts, in turning out a very good nose. She changed the expression of the whole face, too, by some deft smoothing and judicious molding, and no one present had ever seen a snow-form that was half so pretty as this when it was finished. “Make her majesty a crown of stiff writing-paper and scatter water on it,” said Lily.

“O, yes; and let’s borrow an old sheet if we can, and pin it around her neck like a royal robe, and then make it sopping wet and sprinkle snow on it,” said Marion. “It will freeze stiff in the night and look as if it was made of snow.”

Both suggestions were eagerly carried out, and then Mrs. Abbott was called to the window to see the really majestic statue of snow. She expressed great admiration, and Elfie, who was bundled up to the tip of her little red nose, pranced around in wild delight, believing herself to have been an important assistant in making the image.

The next morning at recess the girls all ran out to visit the White Queen, whose beauty had so much improved by time and frost that she really was marvelous. The sun was shining very clearly, but the weather was bitingly cold, and there was every prospect that the statue would retain its fair form for some time. The robe and crown, now frozen stiff, looked as if they too were made entirely of snow.

“I wish somebody besides us could see it,” said Katie, and hardly was her wish expressed before it was gratified. A small sound of admiration startled them, and, quickly turning to look in the direction of the gentle ejaculation, they saw a man’s head above the high board fence. The drifts, now hardened by the frost, had allowed him to walk on them comfortably, and instead of being far below the top of the fence he was now head and shoulders above it. He made no effort to raise himself upon it, as the girls thought for a moment he might do. He had perhaps seen it without its frill of snow, and was aware of its decoration of spikes.

“A most beautiful image, young ladies,” he said, in a very soft voice, with a beaming smile and pushing forward of his head that seemed intended to be very winning.

None of the startled girls replied; so he made another admiring remark.

Bell, who was half behind Lily, was examining the visitor very closely. “O, Lily, that’s the man who spoke to Fannie and me at the station,” she said, excitedly; and Fannie exchanged a corroborative glance with her.

He could not have heard her, but he guessed the meaning of her whisper, for he touched his hat with a flourish, remarking:

“Ah, you remember me, lady? I hope you reached home safely? Is this all the scholars Mrs. Abbott keeps?”

His small prominent eyes were roving about looking most particularly at the smallest girls; and Marion, who was near enough to hear Bell’s whisper, grasped Elfie’s hand and drew her toward the house.

“Is that pretty little miss the young scholar you told me about?” he asked, addressing Bell.

“Don’t speak to him, Bell,” said Lily, quickly. “Come, girls, let us go in.”

He called after them as they moved away, but Marion had reached the door, and, seeing Miss Blake, called her out. Her appearance on the piazza seemed discouraging to the visitor, who instantly dropped out of sight.

“You acted just as if you thought that man was going to eat you and Elfie up,” said Edna to Marion; “but I suppose a person brought up in the woods is easily scared.”

“But he was such a common-looking wretch; he was enough to frighten any one,” said Katie.

“I should have supposed Mary Ann Stubbs would be the last one in the world to mind common folks. I didn’t know there was any other kind where she lived.”

“May be my neighbors were common, but they were not that kind of common,” said Marion, with some spirit; “that man looks as if he would steal.”

“I dare say he would, and do you know he looks enough like the peddler to be his brother, only, of course, he’s better dressed,” said Edna as they went into the school-room.