Miss Maudies callin you, Jem.

You all stay in the middle of the yard. Theres some thrift buried under the snow near the porch. Dont step on it!

Yessum! called Jem. Its beautiful, aint it, Miss Maudie?

Beautiful my hind foot! If it freezes tonight itll carry off all my azaleas!

Miss Maudies old sunhat glistened with snow crystals. She was bending over some small bushes, wrapping them in burlap bags. Jem asked her what she was doing that for.

Keep em warm, she said.

How can flowers keep warm? They dont circulate.

I cannot answer that question, Jem Finch. All I know is if it freezes tonight these plantsll freeze, so you cover em up. Is that clear?

Yessum. Miss Maudie?

What, sir?

Could Scout and me borrow some of your snow?

Heavens alive, take it all! Theres an old peach basket under the house, haul it off in that. Miss Maudies eyes narrowed. Jem Finch, what are you going to do with my snow?

Youll see, said Jem, and we transferred as much snow as we could from Miss Maudies yard to ours, a slushy operation.

What are we gonna do, Jem? I asked.

Youll see, he said. Now get the basket and haul all the snow you can rake up from the back yard to the front. Walk back in your tracks, though, he cautioned.

Are we gonna have a snow baby, Jem?

No, a real snowman. Gotta work hard, now.

Jem ran to the back yard, produced the garden hoe and began digging quickly behind the woodpile, placing any worms he found to one side. He went in the house, returned with the laundry hamper, filled it with earth and carried it to the front yard.

When we had five baskets of earth and two baskets of snow, Jem said we were ready to begin.

Dont you think this is kind of a mess? I asked.

Looks messy now, but it wont later, he said.

Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into a mound on which he added another load, and another until he had constructed a torso.

Jem, I aint ever heard of a nigger snowman, I said.

He wont be black long, he grunted.

Jem procured some peachtree switches from the back yard, plaited them, and bent them into bones to be covered with dirt.

He looks like Miss Stephanie Crawford with her hands on her hips, I said. Fat in the middle and little-bitty arms.

Ill make em bigger. Jem sloshed water over the mud man and added more dirt. He looked thoughtfully at it for a moment, then he molded a big stomach below the figures waistline. Jem glanced at me, his eyes twinkling: Mr. Averys sort of shaped like a snow man, aint he?

Jem scooped up some snow and began plastering it on. He permitted me to cover only the back, saving the public parts for himself. Gradually Mr. Avery turned white.

Using bits of wood for eyes, nose, mouth, and buttons, Jem succeeded in making Mr. Avery look cross. A stick of stovewood completed the picture. Jem stepped back and viewed his creation.

Its lovely, Jem, I said. Looks almost like hed talk to you.

It is, aint it? he said shyly.

We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in the front yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. I didnt know how you were going to do it, he said to Jem, but from now on Ill never worry about whatll become of you, son, youll always have an idea.

Jems ears reddened from Atticuss compliment, but he looked up sharply when he saw Atticus stepping back. Atticus squinted at the snowman a while. He grinned, then laughed. Son, I cant tell what youre going to bean engineer, a lawyer, or a portrait painter. Youve perpetrated a near libel here in the front yard. Weve got to disguise this fellow.

Atticus suggested that Jem hone down his creations front a little, swap a broom for the stovewood, and put an apron on him.

Jem explained that if he did, the snowman would become muddy and cease to be a snowman.

I dont care what you do, so long as you do something, said Atticus. You cant go around making caricatures of the neighbors.