“Sometimes,” continued Jack Frost, “I pinch little boys’ fingers, but that is only to remind them that they forget to ask their mothers if they can go skating.” “I only did that once,” said Billy, reddening. “Again,” said Jack Frost, “I nip flowers. I do that to warn them to go back into the ground, because winter is coming.” “You ought to do it,” said Billy. “I hope they don’t object.” “They do, though. People often object to things that are good for them, like going to bed early, and washing their hands and geography.” “Oh, I love geography now,” protested Billy. “Oh, I’m delighted to hear it. Do you like songs?” “Yes, indeed. The Equine Ox knows a beautiful one about the Equator.” “I cannot imagine a beautiful song about the Equator,” said Jack Frost. “See what you think of mine.” And seating himself on the edge of the cliff they had been skirting, with his heels hanging over space, he sang: THE SONG OF JACK FROST “In the brown October, When the bonfires burn, When reluctant robins Sadly homeward turn, When the trees are moulting Leaves of gold and red, Like stray flakes of sunset From the sky o’erhead, Then I steal at twilight Through the shadows gray, Heralding the winter That is on its way. Soon with films of silver I shall overspread Every quiet water In its pebbly bed. Soon I’ll warn the flowers That it’s time to keep Tryst with dreams of springtime, Wrapped in golden sleep. [Illustration: “And seating himself on the edge of the cliff, he sang”] Then when first the snowflakes Tremble in the air I must forth and hurry, Hurry everywhere: Silvering the treetops Till their branches bright Shimmer as the rainbow In the morning light. Etching lacy landscapes On the windowpane, Spreading fluffy carpets Over hill and plain, Roofing over rivers, Blanketing the bears, Warm and snug and cozy In their forest lairs. Here and there and yonder, Always on the wing, Till I’m called to slumber By the voice of Spring.” “I think that is a very pretty song,” said Billy. “Thank you,” said Jack Frost; “but what has become of the Equator in the meantime?” Billy looked in every direction, but no sign of the Equator was to be seen. “I was listening to your song,” he said. “I forgot to keep looking.” “You are a very nice little boy,” said Jack Frost, patting Billy on the head, “but we have just got to find that Equator. There is no telling what he may be doing.” “I know what he will try to do,” said Billy. “That’s something. What is it?” “Catch Miss Evening Star and make a Comet out of her.” “Great goodness! Why didn’t you say that before?” “There wasn’t time,” explained Billy. “There is always time,” said Jack Frost coldly. “Time is everywhere. The supply is inexhaustible.” “I’m sorry,” said Billy.