A day or two later when the children came into the school yard they were surprised to find a small army of snow soldiers drawn up to receive them.  There were six men in a row, headed by a captain, wearing a rakish snow hat and carrying a fine wooden sword.

“Who did it?” asked every one.  “Did Mr. Carter make ’em?”

Miss Wright was ready to tell them.

“Some poor tramp who was once a sculptor made them for you,” she told the wondering pupils.  “John, the janitor, tells me that he was here all last night keeping the fires going because he was afraid the pipes would freeze.  This poor artist saw the light, and knocked at the door to ask if he might come in and get warm.  I’m glad to say John asked him in and shared his midnight lunch with him.  Then he took him home to breakfast with him.  But first the artist made these snow men to please you, and perhaps to see if his old skill still was left to him.”

“Let us make a snow man in our back yard,” proposed Bobby to Meg on the way home from school that afternoon.  “Dot and Twaddles tried it, but there wasn’t enough snow then.  We can make a good one.”

They found the twins ready to help them, and in a very short time they had rolled a huge snowball that was pronounced just the thing for Mr. Snowman’s body.

“We can’t make long thin legs like the soldiers,” said Bobby regretfully.  “I wonder how the man made ’em like that.  We’ll have to have short roundish legs for ours.”

The short “roundish” legs finished, they had still to make the head.  This was done by rolling a smaller snowball and mounting it on the large round one.

“Now he needs a face,” said Dot, gazing with admiration on their work.  “How’ll you make his eyes and nose, Bobby?”

“With coal,” said Bobby.  “Meg, will you go and get some lumps of coal?  And ask Mother if there is an old hat we can have.  He ought to have a hat.”

Meg ran info the house, and was back again in a few seconds, carrying a handful of coal done up in a bit of newspaper.

“Mother’s hunting up an old derby hat,” she reported.  “She’ll throw it to us.  Oh, Bobby, doesn’t he look funny?”

The snow man was a bit cross-eyed, but he had a cheerful, companionable look for all of that, and the children were well pleased with him.

“But arms!” cried Meg suddenly.  “He hasn’t any arms, Bobby.”

Sure enough, they had forgotten to make him any arms.  This omission was quickly remedied.  Mother Blossom called to them, as they were putting the finishing touches on the right hand.

“Here’s an old hat of Daddy’s,” she said, stepping out on the porch.  “Will it do?  Here, Meg, catch.”

She tossed the hat over to Meg.

“Wait and see how it looks, Mother,” begged Dot.  “Want a chair, Bobby?  I’ll get it.”

The snow man was so tall that Bobby could not reach the top of his head, and when Dot came back, dragging a chair for him to stand on, even then he had to get up on his tiptoes to place the hat.