y safe, that Billy was
making her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed so
hard that she was weak when they reached the bottom.

"Oh, do let's do that again!" she said when she caught her breath.

Never was such a week as followed. The cold weather kept up.
Continued storms added to the snow. For the first time in years came
four one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frost
were on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries of
snow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as the
children were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright as
summer.

Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, "I
wonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day." Then she would run over to the
window to see.

Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. He
was so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peel
grin could look straight over the fence to the street. The
passers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studying
the phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally a
bad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr.
Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. In
the course of time, the "stove-pipe" became very battered and, as
the result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle of
his cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintain
his genial grin.

"Let's go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh," Rosie would say every day.
The two little girls would brush the snow off his hat and coat,
adjust his nose and teeth, would straighten him up generally.

After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs all over Mr. Chumpleigh.
Thereafter, the saucy little English sparrows ate from Mr.
Chumpleigh's hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, even his pockets.

"Perhaps the snow will last all winter," Maida said hopefully one
day. "If it does, Mr. Chumpleigh's health will be perfect."

"Well, perhaps, it's just as well if he goes," Rosie said sensibly;
"we haven't done a bit of work since he came."

On Sunday the weather moderated a little. Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most
melancholy look all the afternoon as if he feared what was to come.
What was worse, he lost his nose.

Monday morning, Maida ran to the window dreading what she might see.
But instead of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful sight spread
out before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everything
that ha