'What's his name?' I asked Philippa when I saw her in the post
office yesterday. 'Frosty.' 'He was looking a bit
the worse for wear last night.' 'He's supposed to have a
light inside him but it's not working, and without it he doesn't
stand up straight. They do a reindeer and a Santa as well but I
thought I'd better not go over the top.' 'No; save something
for next year.'
This afternoon, when I drop in their card, Frosty is lying in a
heap on their front lawn.
'He's melted!'
'He's deflated!' chuckles Philippa, 'I know just
how he feels!'
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