There was no room to take exercise, of course, but that, after all, was about the last thing she was thinking of.

A day or two more and she was too fast asleep to do anything but breathe.
"The winter deepened, and storm after storm scourged the naked plain; and the snow fell endlessly, till the snowhouse was buried away fairly out of remembrance.

The savage cold swept down noiselessly from outer space, till, if there had been any such things as thermometers up there, the mercury would have been frozen hard as steel and the thin spirit to a sticky, ropy syrup.

But even such cold as that could not get down to the hidden snow-house where the old bear lay so sound asleep." The Child wagged his head wistfully at the picture, and then cheered himself with the resolve to build just such a snowhouse in the back yard that winter--if only there should fall enough snow.

But he managed to hold his tongue about it.
"Just about the middle of the winter," went on Uncle Andy, after a pause to see if the Child was going to interrupt him again, "the old bear began to stir a little.