"Yes; but I got even with him. He came to me one day to find out what an episode was, and I told him it was a poem in hysterical hexameters, with a refrain repeated every eighteenth line, to be sung to slow music." "And what happened?" asked Jimmieboy. "He told his teacher that, and he was kept in for two months, and made to subtract two apples from one lunch every recess." "Oh, my, how awful!" cried Jimmieboy. "But it served him right. Don't you think so?" said the Dictionary. "Yes, I do," said Jimmieboy. "But tell me. What'll I tell papa that he doesn't know?" "Tell him that a sasspipedon is a barrel with four sides, and is open at both ends, and is a much better place for cigar ashes than his lap, because they pass through it to the floor, and so do not soil his clothes." "Good!" said Jimmieboy, peering across the room to where his father still sat smoking. "I think I'll tell him now. Say, papa," he cried sitting up, "what is a sasspipedon?" "I don't know. What?" answered Jimmieboy's father, laying his paper down, and coming over to where the little boy sat. "It's a--it's a--it's an ash-barrel," said the little fellow, trying to remember what the Dictionary had said. "Who said so?" asked papa. "The Dictionary," answered Jimmieboy. And when Jimmieboy's father came to examine the Dictionary on the subject, the disagreeable old book hadn't a thing to say about the sasspipedon, and Jimmieboy went up to bed wondering what on earth it all meant, anyhow. VI. JIMMIEBOY'S SNOWMAN. The snow had been falling fast for well-nigh forty-eight hours and Jimmieboy was almost crazy with delight. He loved the snow because it was possible to do so much with it. One didn't need to go into a store, for instance, and part with ten cents every time one happened to want a ball, when there was snow on the ground. Then, too, Jimmieboy had a new sled he wanted to try, but best of all, his father had promised to make him a snowman, with shoe-buttons for eyes and a battered old hat on his head, if perchance there could be found anywhere in the house a hat of that sort. Fortunately a battered old hat was found, and the snowman when finished looked very well in it. I say fortunately because Jimmieboy had fully made up his mind that a battered hat was absolutely necessary to make the snowman a success, and had not the old one been found I very much fear the youth would have taken his father's new one and battered that into the state of usefulness required to complete the icy statue to his satisfaction.