ther than
height, and rolled along on his short and sturdy legs as substantial
as an elephant, though not quite so big. Then the mother resumed her
work. What it was I forget; but she was either trimming a silken
bonnet for Violet, or darning a pair of stockings for little Peony's
short legs. Again, however, and again, and yet other agains, she could
not help turning her head to the window to see how the children got on
with their snow-image.

Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight, those bright little
souls at their task! Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how
knowingly and skilfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the
chief direction, and told Peony what to do, while, with her own
delicate fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the
snow-figure. It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the
children, as to grow up under their hands, while they were playing and
prattling about it. Their mother was quite surprised at this; and the
longer she looked, the more and more surprised she grew.

"What remarkable children mine are!" thought she, smiling with a
mother's pride; and, smiling at herself, too, for being so proud of
them. "What other children could have made anything so like a little
girl's figure out of snow at the first trial? Well; but now I must
finish Peony's new frock, for his grandfather is coming to-morrow, and
I want the little fellow to look handsome."

So she took up the frock, and was soon as busily at work again with
her needle as the two children with their snow-image. But still, as
the needle travelled hither and thither through the seams of the
dress, the mother made her toil light and happy by listening to the
airy voices of Violet and Peony. They kept talking to one another all
the time, their tongues being quite as active as their feet and hands.
Except at intervals, she could not distinctly hear what was said, but
had merely a sweet impression that they were in a most loving mood,
and were enjoying themselves highly, and that the business of making
the snow-image went prosperously on. Now and then, however, when
Violet and Peony happened to raise their voices, the words were as
audible as if they had been spoken in the very parlour, where the
mother sat. O how delightfully those words echoed in her heart, even
though they meant nothing so very wise or wonderful, after all!

But you must know a mother listens with her heart, much more than with
her ears; and t