the owner of it. He loomed up among some bushes at their right. He was
so dazzling white himself, and had such an indistinctness of outline,
that they had taken him for an oak-tree. But it was the real Snow Man.
They knew him in a moment, he looked so much like his effigies that
they used to make in their yards.

"We don't keep any hens," repeated the Snow Man. "What are you calling
hens for in this forest?"

The children huddled together as close as they could, and the oldest
boy explained. When he broke down the oldest girl piped up and helped
him.

"Well," said the Snow Man, "I haven't seen the silver hen. I never did
see any hens in these woods, but she may be around here for all that.
You had better go home with me and spend the night. My wife will be
delighted to see you. We have never had any company in our lives, and
she is always scolding about it."

The children looked at each other and shook harder than they had done
with cold.

"I'm--afraid our mothers--wouldn't--like to have us," stammered the
oldest boy.

"Nonsense," cried the Snow Man. "Here I have been visiting you, time
and time again, and stood whole days out in your front yards, and
you've never been to see me. I think it is about time that I had some
return. Come along." With that the Snow Man seized the right ear of
the oldest boy between a finger and thumb, and danced him along, and