"Of course the kiddies think it is very fine to be snowed in, but I think
the rest of you might have more sense," she scolded. "Come and sit by your
old Granny, Buster, and sing your sweet song about our dear attic home."

Buster grinned mischievously.

"I'll sing you a newer one, Granny," he offered sweetly. He folded his
paws as Mammy had taught him long ago, tossed his head high and sang
merrily:

"Softly all the night long
Fell the snowflakes white;
Jolly little snowflakes,
Such a pretty sight!

"All the pines and hemlocks,
See them bending low;
We are warm and cosy
In our bungalow.

"So we'll play our music,
Sing our songs of cheer;
For we love the snow-time
Best of all the year."

[Illustration: _He folded his paws as Mammy had taught him long ago,
tossed his head high and sang merrily._]

"We love our attic home best of all, Buster Graymouse!" sobbed Granny.
"And we can't see the pines and hemlocks bending low. We can't see