"And that's why Jack Frost bit little Russ," asserted the voice. "In the first place, he loved him. Little Russ was to him as sweet as a cherry is to you. In the second place, he took a little wee bite, because it wasn't proper to gulp him all down. To-morrow that bite spot will be well, and little Russ will be none the worst for it. Now I don't see why you should want to ruin all this beautiful country just for that. It isn't a crime to love babies or to eat cherries." "That's so," said Jimmieboy. "But Jack Frost has done other things. He killed a lot of mamma's flowers." "No, he didn't," returned the voice. "Your mamma left 'em out-doors all night, and Jack came along and did just what the bees do. He took all the sweetness he could find out of 'em, and brought them here, where he planted them and made them appear like flowers of silver. You see what the heat down there is doing?" Jimmieboy looked, and saw the icy covering melting off the flowers and trees, and as the silver coating fell away they would wave softly in the balmy air for a moment, and then wither and crumble away. "Isn't that too bad?" he said. "It is, indeed," replied the voice. "Those flowers and trees would have stood and lived on forever in their ice coats--ever fresh, ever happy. The warmth from the invader's fire gives them one glad mad moment of ecstasy, and then they wither away, and are lost forever. Is that worth while, my boy?" The voice quivered a little as it uttered these words, and Jimmieboy felt tears rising in his own eyes too. Jack Frost was not so bad a fellow, after all, as he had been made out. "But he made our hired man's back ache when he went to dig some holes for the fence posts," said Jimmieboy, who now felt that he should have some excuse for his presence in Frostland, and on a mission of destruction. "Was that right of him?" "Even if it was his fault, it was right," said the voice. "I don't believe it was his fault, though. Hired men have a way of having back-ache when there's lots to do. But supposing Jack did give it to him. That hired man was taking a spade and scarring Mother Earth with its sharp edge. Jack Frost gets all that he has from Mother Earth. She has given him work to do--work that has made him what he is--and it was his duty to protect her." "Well, I don't know what to do," said Jimmieboy, beginning to sob. "I came here for revenge, and I don't think----" "There is only one thing for you to do, be true to those who trust you," said the voice. "Now who trusts you? Your nurse doesn't--she wouldn't let you out of her sight. Your papa believes in you, but he never would have intrusted such a mission as this to your hands; nor would your mamma or little Russ. On the other hand, Jack Frost has made you Secretary of State, and you promised to help him in this dreadful trial--_he trusts you_. As the poem says, "E'en though it's sure to take and bust you, Be ever true to them that trust you."