It appears that it is with snowmen as with some other men in conspicuous positions.  It is easier to find fault with them than to fill their place.

The end of this was a feverish cold, and, when the day of the party came, the ex-snowman was still in bed.  It is due to the other children to say that they felt the disappointment as keenly as he did, and that it greatly damped the pleasure of the party for them to think that they had prevented his sharing in the treat.  The most penitent of all was the deviser of the original idea.  He had generously offered to stay at home with the little patient, which was as generously refused; but the next evening he was allowed to come and sit on his bed, and describe it all for the amusement of his friend.  He was a quaint boy, this urchin, with a face as broad as an American Indian’s, eyes as bright as a squirrel’s, and all the mischief in life lurking about him, till you could see roguishness in the very folds of his hooded Indian winter coat of blue and scarlet.  In his hand he brought the sick child’s present:  a dray with two white horses, and little barrels that took off and on, and a driver, with wooden joints, a cloth coat, and everything, in fact, that was suitable to the driver of a brewer’s dray, except that he had blue boots and earrings, and that his hair was painted in braids like a lady’s, which is clearly the fault of the doll manufacturers, who will persist in making them all of the weaker sex.

“And what was the Christmas tree like?” asked the invalid.

“Exactly like the fir outside your door,” was the reply.  “Just about that size, and planted in a pot covered with red cloth.  It was kept in another room till after tea, and then when the door was opened it was like a street fire in the town at night—­such a blaze of light—­candles everywhere!  And on all the branches the most beautiful presents.  I got a drum and a penwiper.”

“Was there an angel?” the child asked.

“Oh, yes!” the boy answered.  “It was on the tip-top branch, and it was given to me, and I brought it for you, if you would like it; for, you know, I am so very, very sorry I thought of a snowman and made you ill, and I do love you, and beg you to forgive me.”

And the roguish face stooped over the pillow to be kissed; and out of a pocket in the hooded coat came forth the Christmas Angel.  In the face it bore a strong family likeness to the drayman, but its feet were hidden in folds of snowy muslin, and on its head glittered a tinsel star.

“How lovely!” said the child.  “Father told me about this.  I like it best of all.  And it is very kind of you, for it is not your fault that I caught cold.  I should have liked it if we could have done it, but I think to enjoy being a snowman, one should be snow all through.”

They had tea together, and then the invalid was tucked up for the night.  The dray was put away in the cupboard, but he took the angel to bed with him.