"Dat chile dun gwine an' buried himself alive," responded the colored
cook. "De roof of de snow house cabed in on him, pooh dear! He's 'most
stuffocated!"

In the meantime Freddie was gasping for breath. Then he looked at the
wreck of the snow house and set up a tremendous roar of dismay.

"Oh, Flossie, it's all spoilt! The bay window an' all!"

"Never mind, Freddie dear," said his mother, taking him. "Be thankful
that you were not suffocated, as Dinah says."

"Yes, but Flossie and me were makin' an _ev'rything_ house, with a
parlor, an' a bay window, an' _ev'rything_. I didn't want it to fall
down." Freddie was still gasping, but now he struggled to the ground.
"Want to build it up again," he added.

"I am afraid you'll get into trouble again, Freddie."

"No, I won't, mamma. Do let us build it up again," pleaded the little
fellow.

"I kin watch dem from de doah," suggested Dinah.

"Let me help them, mamma," put in Nan. "Bert is reading a book, so he
won't want me for a while."

"Very well, Nan, you may stay with them. But all of you be careful,"
said Mrs. Bobbsey.