Maida's Little Shop Part 28

They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound of snow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick, hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them to occupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their new dwelling.

"Run into the house," was his next order, "and bring out all the water you can carry."

There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink first but in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthur with a bucket, d.i.c.ky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida with a dipper.

"Now I'm going to pour water over the house," Billy explained. "You see if it freezes now it will last longer." Very carefully, he sprayed it on the sides and roof, das.h.i.+ng it upwards on the inside walls:

"We might as well make it look pretty while we're about it," Billy continued. "You children get to work and make a lot of snow-b.a.l.l.s the size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out."

This was easy work. Before Billy could say, "Jack Robinson!" four pairs of eager hands had acc.u.mulated snow-b.a.l.l.s enough for a sham battle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with two tall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house and trimmed it with snow-b.a.l.l.s, all along the edge.

"Now I guess we'd better have a snow-man to live in this mansion while we're about it," Billy suggested briskly. "Each of you roll up an arm or a leg while I make the body."

Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. He lifted on to them the big round body which he himself had rolled.

Putting the arms on was not so easy. He worked for a long time before he found the angle at which they would stick.

Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse for the hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue.

Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smooth coals that d.i.c.ky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair of expressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peel and inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head was set on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment.

He came back carrying a suit-case. "Shut your eyes, every manjack of you," he ordered. "You're not to see what I do until it's done. If I catch one of you peeking, I'll confine you in the snow-house for five minutes."

The W.M.N.T.'s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids with resolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysterious work on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the most tantalizing noises.

"Oh, Billy, can't I please look," Maida begged, jiggling up and down. "I can't stand it much longer."

"In a minute," Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises kept up. "Now," Billy said suddenly.

Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked their delight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finally rolled in the snow.

Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man's body. He had put a tall hat-Arthur called it a "stove-pipe"-on the snow-man's head.

He had put an old black pipe between the snow-man's grinning, orange-colored teeth. Gloves hung limply from the snow-man's arm-stumps and to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give the snow-man's head a c.o.c.k to one side. Altogether he looked so spruce and jovial that it was impossible not to like him.

"Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen," Billy said. "Some members of the W.M.N.T., Mr. Chumpleigh."

And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until-until-

Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eating when an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie.

"Oh, Granny," she said, "the boys have made a most wonderful coast down Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting until nine o'clock if you'll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, especially if Billy comes along."

"If Misther Billy goes, 'twill be all roight."

"Oh, Granny," Maida said, "you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!" She was so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the time Granny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached the street, it seemed as if she must explode.

A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made the night like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for the street and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds.

"It's like the 'Pied Piper', Rosie," Maida said joyfully, "children everywhere and all going in the same direction."

They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where Halliwell Street sloped down the hill.

Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. "Great Scott, what a coast!" he said.

In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide and as smooth as gla.s.s. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound of snow served as a buffer.

"The boys have been working on the slide all day," Rosie said. "Did you ever see such a nice one, Maida?"

"I never saw any kind of a one," Maida confessed. "How did they make it so smooth?"

"Pouring water on it."

"Have you never coasted before, Maida?" Billy asked.

"Never."

"Well, here's your chance then," said a cheerful voice back of them.

They all turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with what Maida soon learned was a "double-runner."

Billy examined it carefully. "Did you make it, Arthur?"

"Yes."

"Pretty good piece of work," Billy commented. "Want to try it, Maida?"

"I'm crazy to!"

"All right. Pile on!"

Arthur took his place in front. Rosie sat next, then d.i.c.ky, then Maida, then Billy.

"Hold on to d.i.c.ky," Billy instructed Maida, "and I'll hold on to you."

Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemed as if they would never start. But at last, she heard Billy's voice, "On your marks. Get set! Go!" The double-runner stirred.

It moved slowly for a moment across the level top of the street.

Then came the first slope of the hill-they plunged forward. She heard Rosie's hysterical shriek, d.i.c.ky's vociferous cheers and Billy's blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as a little image. They struck the second slope of the hill-then she screamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures in the kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow her ears off. They reached the third slope of the hill-and now they had left the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instant the double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie and she were hugging each other and saying, "Wasn't it GREAT?"

They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maida watched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds, girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated in front, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on the ice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contented themselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring little boys who went down lying flat on their sleds.

At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on the double-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took a little boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to those who had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at the top of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunate children. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was so smooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledless ones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One little lad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed on a broom. Boxes and s.h.i.+ngles and even dish-pans began to appear. Most reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landing in a heap in the snow.

Maida enjoyed every moment of it-even the long walks back up the hill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that had drifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. n.o.body was hurt. Rosie, d.i.c.ky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in the soft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice.

Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turning round and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened.

But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy was making her spin about in that ridiculous fas.h.i.+on, 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.