The flowers lived out their lives and faded and disappeared; the beetles burrowed far into the warm earth; the butterflies deserted the meadows; and the voice of the brook grew hoarse, as if it had taken cold. One day snowflakes filled all the air in the Laughing Valley, dancing boisterously toward the earth and clothing in pure white raiment the roof of Claus's dwelling. At night Jack Frost rapped at the door. "Come in!" cried Claus. "Come out!" answered Jack, "for you have a fire inside." So Claus came out. He had known Jack Frost in the Forest, and liked the jolly rogue, even while he mistrusted him. "There will be rare sport for me to-night, Claus!" shouted the sprite. "Isn't this glorious weather? I shall nip scores of noses and ears and toes before daybreak." "If you love me, Jack, spare the children," begged Claus. "And why?" asked the other, in surprise. "They are tender and helpless," answered Claus. "But I love to nip the tender ones!" declared Jack. "The older ones are tough, and tire my fingers." "The young ones are weak, and can not fight you," said Claus. "True," agreed Jack, thoughtfully. "Well, I will not pinch a child this night--if I can resist the temptation," he promised. "Good night, Claus!" "Good night." The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the nearest village. Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly. Beside the hearth sat Blinkie, a big cat given him by Peter the Knook. Her fur was soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment. "I shall not see the children again soon," said Claus to the cat, who kindly paused in her song to listen. "The winter is upon us, the snow will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play with my little friends." The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no reply. So long as the fire burned and Claus sat in his easy chair by the hearth she did not mind the weather. So passed many days and many long evenings. The cupboard was always full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to feed the fire from the big wood-pile the Knooks had brought him. One evening he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with his sharp knife. He had no thought, at first, except to occupy his time, and he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the stick. Puss sat up on her haunches and watched him, listening at the same time to her master's merry whistle, which she loved to hear even more than her own purring songs. Claus glanced at puss and then at the stick he was whittling, until presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward. Claus stopped whistling to laugh, and then both he and the cat looked at the wooden image in some surprise. Then he carved out the eyes and the nose, and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon a neck.