"What remarkable children mine are!" thought she, smiling with amother's pride; and smiling at herself, too, for being so proud ofthem. "What other children could have made anything so like a littlegirl's figure out of snow, at the first trial? Well- but now I mustfinish Peony's new frock, for his grandfather is coming tomorrow,and I want the little fellow to look handsome."So she took up the frock, and was soon as busily at work again withher needle as the two children with their snow-image. But still, asthe needle travelled hither and thither through the seams of thedress, the mother made her toil light and happy by listening to theairy voices of Violet and Peony. They kept talking to one anotherall the time, their tongues being quite as active as their feet andhands. Except at intervals, she could not distinctly hear what wassaid, but had merely a sweet impression that they were in a mostloving mood, and were enjoying themselves highly, and that thebusiness of making the snow-image went prosperously on. Now andthen, however, when Violet and Peony happened to raise their voices,the words were as audible as if they had been spoken in the veryparlor, where the mother sat. O, how delightfully those words echoedin her heart, even though they meant nothing so very wise orwonderful, after all!
But you must know a mother listens with her heart, much more thanwith her ears; and thus she is often delighted with the trills ofcelestial music, when other people can hear nothing of the kind.
"Peony, Peony!" cried Violet to her brother, who had gone toanother part of the garden, "bring me some of that fresh snow,Peony, from the very furthest corner, where we have not beentrampling. I want it to shape our little snow-sister's bosom with. Youknow that part must be quite pure, just as it came out of the sky!""Here it is, Violet!" answered Peony, in his bluff tone- but a verysweet tone, too- as he came floundering through the half-troddendrifts. "Here is the snow for her little bosom. O, Violet, howbeau-ti-ful she begins to look!""Yes," said Violet, thoughtfully and quietly; "our snow-sister doeslook very lovely. I did not quite know, Peony, that we could make sucha sweet little girl as this."The mother, as she listened, thought how fit and delightful anincident it would be, if fairies, or, still better, ifangel-children were to come from paradise, and play invisibly with herown darlings, and help them to make their snow-image, giving it thefeatures of celestial babyhood! Violet and Peony would not be aware oftheir immortal playmates only they would see that the image grewvery beautiful while they worked at it, and would think that theythemselves had done it all.
"My little girl and boy deserve such playmates, if mortalchildren ever did!" said the mother to herself; and then she smiledagain at her own motherly pride.
Nevertheless, the idea seized upon her imagination; and, ever andanon, she took a glimpse out of the window, half dreaming that shemight see the golden-haired children of paradise sporting with her owngolden-haired Violet and bright-cheeked Peony.
Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest, butin-distinct hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peonywrought together with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be theguiding spirit, while Peony acted rather as a laborer, and brought herthe snow from far and near. And yet the little urchin evidently hada proper understanding of the matter, too!
"Peony, Peony!" cried Violet; for her brother was again at theother side of the garden. "Bring me those light wreaths of snow thathave rested on the lower branches of the pear-tree. You can clamber onthe snow-drift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to makesome ringlets for our snow-sister's head!""Here they are, Violet!" answered the little boy. "Take care you donot break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!""Does she not look sweetly?" said Violet, with a very satisfiedtone; "and now we must have some little shining bits of ice, to makethe brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will seehow very beautiful she is; but papa will say, 'Tush! nonsense!- comein out of the cold!'""Let us call mamma to look out," said Peony; and then he shoutedlustily, "Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out, and see what a nice 'ittlegirl we are making!
The mother put down her work, for an instant, and looked out of thewindow. But it so happened that the sun- for this was one of theshortest days of the whole year- had sunken so nearly to the edge ofthe world, that his setting shine came obliquely into the lady's eyes.
So she was dazzled, you must understand, and could not very distinctlyobserve what was in the garden. Still, however, through all thatbright, blinding dazzle of the sun and the new snow, she beheld asmall white figure in the garden, that seemed to have a wonderful dealof human likeness about it. And she saw Violet and Peony- indeed,she looked more at them than at the image- she saw the two childrenstill at work; Peony bringing fresh snow, and Violet applying it tothe figure as scientifically as a sculptor adds clay to his model.
Indistinctly as she discerned the snow-child, the mother thought toherself that never before was there a snow-figure so cunningly made,nor ever such a dear little girl and boy to make it.
