It was snowing harder than ever, and already everything had a deep fluffy covering. Oh, would his grandmother ever be able to get back to him? But he must be brave, and not cry, for he was six years old. He said a little prayer, as his grandmother had taught him to do whenever he was frightened or unhappy, and his heavy heart grew lighter. “I’ll make a snowman,” Goran decided. Perhaps then the time would seem shorter. Grandfather and he had made a splendid snowman after the first snowfall last winter. It was not late enough in the year to have the day as dark as night. It was only as dark as a deep winter twilight, and the white snow seemed to give out a light of its own for Goran to work by. First he found an old broomstick and thrust it into the snow so that it stood upright. Then he pushed the heavy wet snow around it, patting on here, scooping out there, until there was a body to hold the big snowball he rolled for the head. A bent twig pressed in made a pleasant smile, and for eyes Goran ran indoors and took from the little box that held his treasures two marbles of sky-blue glass that his grandfather had given him once for his birthday. What a beautiful snowman! With his sky-blue eyes he gazed through the falling snow at little Goran. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!” called the old clock, and that was the same as saying: “Time for supper, Goran!” The fire lit up the room with a warm glow, painted the curtains crimson, and made wavering gigantic shadows on the walls. The water bubbled in the pot, and the boiling potatoes knocked against the lid. “Prr-prrr!” said Mejau, blinking in front of the blaze, and the old clock answered: “Tock! Tick! Tock!” Goran had given their supper to Nanna and Gustava and Mejau, and had taken one good-night look at his snowman. Now he put his bowl of boiled potatoes on the table in front of the fire, and pulled up his chair. Lying on the floor where she had fallen from his box when he was getting his snowman’s blue eyes was a playing card, the Queen of Clubs. His grandfather had found it lying in the road in the village, and had brought it home as a present for Goran. The little boy thought the Queen was very splendid, with her crown and her veil, and her red dress trimmed with bands of blue and leaves and stars and rising suns of yellow. In one hand she held on high a little yellow flower. Now he picked her up and put her on a chair beside him, pretending the Queen had come for supper to keep him from being lonely. Each mouthful of potato he first offered her, with great politeness, but the delicate lady only gazed off into space. Goran’s supper made his insides feel as if a soft blanket had been tucked cozily about them, and he was warm and sleepy. “Was there anything else Grandmother told me to do before I went to bed?” he murmured.