Synopsis

One of Mrs. Allen's bay windows stood open. Between the ivies, tuberoses, and lilies, you caught a glimpse of gilded walls and rare paintings. Better than all, you saw four young faces looking out at a snow-storm; Dotty with eyes like living diamonds, Prudy fair and sweet, Horace lordly and wise; and the little one "with dove's eyes" following every motion of his head, as if she were a sunflower, and he the sun. "Please shut the window, quick, Horace; the plants will freeze," said Prudy, drawing in her powdered head. "Things don't freeze in cloudy weather, Prue; but you children will catch cold; so here goes." "O, Hollis, don't those snow-specks look like little bits o' birdies, athout any wings or any feathers, too?" "Droll birds they would be," said Aunt Madge. "That reminds me of an old riddle, children,—