While the three mighty trunks of the great sycamore in the middle looked white as the snow, and dwarfed its companions as it never had in summer; its wide-spreading branches were sharply cut against the blue background, and they tossed their frosted balls in the face of Heaven.

The giant of Rainbow Bottom might be broken, but it never would bend.

Every clambering vine, every weed and dried leaf wore a coat of lace-webbed frostwork.

The wind swept a mist of tiny crystals through the air, and from the shelter of the deep woods across the river a Cardinal whistled gayly.
The bird of Good Cheer, whistling no doubt on an empty crop, made Dannie think of Jimmy, and his unfailing fountain of mirth.

Dear Jimmy! Would he ever take life seriously?
How good he was to tramp to town and back after five miles on the ice.