"Here is the snow for her little bosom. O Violet, how
beau-ti-ful she begins to look!"
"Yes," said Violet, thoughtfully and quietly; "our snow-sister does
look very lovely. I did not quite know, Peony, that we could make such
a sweet little girl as this."
The mother, as she listened, thought how fit and delightful an
incident it would be, if fairies, or, still better, if angel-children
were to come from paradise, and play invisibly with her own darlings,
and help them to make their snow-image, giving it the features of
celestial babyhood! Violet and Peony would not be aware of their
immortal playmates--only they could see that the image grew very
beautiful while they worked at it, and would think that they
themselves had done it all.
"My little girl and boy deserve such playmates, if mortal children
ever did!" said the mother to herself; and then she smiled again at
her own motherly pride.
Nevertheless, the ideas seized upon her imagination; and ever and
anon, she took a glimpse out of the window, half dreaming that she
might see the golden-haired children of paradise sporting with her own
golden-haired Violet and bright-cheeked Peony.
Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest, but indistinct
hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peony wrought together
with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit,
while Peony acted rather as a labourer, and brought her the snow from
far and near.
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