"Nope. Are you?"

"Nope. I hope the ice-boat isn't broken. Bert wouldn't like that. Let's go
and look."

As the children floundered out of the snow, which had been left from a
storm that had swept over the country before the lake had frozen, they
heard a voice calling to them. Looking in the direction of the woods, they
saw coming toward them an old man, wearing a big, ragged overcoat, a fur
cap and mittens, while over his shoulder was an axe.

"Oh! oh!" said Flossie in a low voice. "Who--who's that, Freddie?"

"Oh, I know him. That's Uncle Jack, the woodchopper. He'll help us get the
boat on the ice again, and I can sail it back home."

"Nope!" cried Flossie, shaking her flaxen curly head. "I'm never going to
ride in an ice-boat with you any more. Never! You go too fast, and stop
too quick. I'm going to _walk_ home!"

"What's the matter, children?" asked Uncle Jack, and he came plowing his
way through the snow. "Ah, your ice-boat is upset, I see! Well, you two
are pretty small potatoes to be out sailing alone. 'Most froze, too, I'll
warrant ye! Come on to my cabin. It's warm there, whatever else it is!"
and he helped Flossie and Freddie from the snowdrift.

"Thank you," said Flossie. "But we're not potatoes, Uncle Jack."

"Well, little peaches, then. Anyhow, your cheeks look like red apples,"