AN OCTOBER DAY 49 



" A snowstorm in October !" said the visitors. " Pre- 

 posterous ! It can't be snow." But it was; and soon the hills 

 and valleys and trees and wattle sprays were all hidden by the 

 softly-falling curtain. 



All through the afternoon and well into the night it fell, 

 and the starlight shone upon a glistening white world, which 

 drew the fascinated children out from before the big log fires 

 to enjoy the unusual excitement and fun of a snowball fight. 



"Hurrah!" they shouted, scraping the white wonder from 

 verandahs and fences, and pelting each other with balls. 

 " Hurrah ! Hurrah ! This is something like a springtime ! If 

 only it would last a week !" And they laughed and screamed 

 with delight in the freezing air. 



But that was not at all what the wind expected. He had 

 meant to give pain, not pleasure ; so he blew all the snow- 

 clouds back to their winter quarters, and when the children 

 ran out next morning to make more snowballs, there w r as 

 nothing but slush in the garden, and over the fence the wattle 

 sprays were waving as brightly as ever beneath the shining sun. 



" This is more like spring," said the mothers, packing the 

 picnic baskets. " This is really spring," sang the robin as he 

 picked out a grub from the old grey fence. " This is a decent 

 spring," said the golfers, making an early start for the links. 



And the wattle shook its golden sprays out in the morning 

 sunshine, and laughed to the passers-by. " Of course it is 



