Again came that firm, quick tapping on the window pane.

Through the cold, frosted glass, a little girl in scarlet snowsuit peered in at the Brownies, seated cross-legged in a semi-circle on the rug.

Her freckled pug nose made a tiny smudge as she pressed it hard against the pane, trying to see what went on in the room.

“Why, it’s Veve McGuire!” said Connie, scrambling to her feet.

“Let’s not pay any attention to her.” This advice came from Jane Tuttle, another member of the Rosedale Brownie Troop. With a toss of her long, yellow pigtails, she went on snipping papers. “Veve’s just trying to act silly because she isn’t a Brownie.”

2 Veve McGuire lived next door to Connie. That fall when Miss Jean Gordon, the fourth grade teacher at Rosedale School, had organized the Brownies, the little girl had been invited to join.

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But Veve had tossed her dark curls and said she didn’t think she wanted to be a Brownie.

“Who wants to belong to any old troop?” she had scoffed. “What do Brownies do anyway, except have meetings?”

“Brownies have loads of fun,” the other girls had told her. “They go to camp, they help at home, they plan entertainments—”

Veve hadn’t listened. Even when the six girls bought their new uniforms of pinchecked brown gingham, each with a cocky felt beanie cap, she had pretended she wasn’t a bit interested. But now that the Brownies were so busy with their work and plans, she really missed her playmates.

Connie, who very much wanted Veve to be a Brownie Scout, knew all this. So while the other girls paid no heed to Veve, she went to the window.

“Come on out and play!” Veve shouted. “I’m going to make a big snowman. I’ll let you all help me!”

Now it had snowed nearly all day, the first real storm of December. Little feathery drifts had blown against the Williams’ white shingle house.

3 During the last hour, the wind had died. Water dripped steadily from the roof, for the weather had turned warmer. The snow, though melting fast, was just soft enough to roll.

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