“When we speak of a person making an exit,” said daddy, “we mean that the person has gone out, and so when we speak of the winter’s exit, we mean that the winter has made his departure. The winter was quite angry that Mr. Sun was so eager to see the spring.
“‘I’d think,’ said the winter, ‘you’d be a little scrap more polite, anyway. It always makes me so mad that I just hang around and hang around, and laugh when I hear folks say: “Isn’t the winter ever going?”’
“‘Are you going to make your last bow soon?’ asked Mr. Sun.
“‘To-morrow,’ said the winter. ‘Yes, by to-morrow I’ll really have to go. And after this last little snow-storm there’ll be no more until next year. Ah, what a sad thought that is to me, though it’s not such a sad thought for others. They seem to be so absurdly fond of young spring. They spoil him frightfully.’
“‘And you won’t really send any more blizzards?’ asked Mr. Sun.
“‘I can’t,’ said the winter, ‘because you would cross that old Equator.’
“Mr. Sun smiled and the winter said: ‘I’ll take a rest now and fool the people! They’ll think it’s really spring, and then I’ll give them my fine farewell to-morrow.’
“And sure enough on the morrow there was a light fall of snow. The spring hardly knew what to make of it at first, until he found it was so light a storm.
“‘That’s the winter’s bow as he makes his exit,’ said Mr. Sun to the spring.
“And the spring sent out the early Breezes and said: ‘Whisper to the birds, the buds, the children that I’ve really, really come, and that winter has made his exit!’”