The next morning was a Monday. The snow stopped, the sun rose. The temperature hovered below zero.
Mother said “About time you got off to school, isn’t it Edward?”
“I guess it is,” he said, no questions asked. Which is just the kind of boy he was.
After breakfast he climbed down from the tree and walked six miles to the little schoolhouse. Saw a man frozen in a block of ice on his way there. About froze himself, too—didn’t, though. He made it. He was a couple of minutes early, in fact.
And there was his schoolmaster, sitting on a wood pile, reading. All he could see of the schoolhouse was the weather vane, the rest of it buried beneath the weekend’s snowfall.
“Morning, Edward,” he said.
“Morning,” Edward said.
And then he remembered: he’d forgotten his homework.
Went back to get it.