"They seem to have some food left, but not much," I said, "and I fear they must be suffering from cold."
"Couldn't we poke some wood to them through this hole?" said Mrs. Aleshine, whose combative feelings had changed to the deepest compassion. "I should think they must be nearly froze, with nothin' to warm 'em but hard-b'iled eggs."
I explained that there was no place in their shed where they could build a fire, and proposed that we should give them some hot tea and some of our provisions.
"WE WERE ABOUT TO"
"SEND HIM A BASKET."
"That's so!" said Mrs. Aleshine. "Just shout in to them that if they'll shove them eggs through the hole, I'll bile 'em fur 'em as often as they want 'em."
"I've just got to say this," ejaculated Mrs. Lecks, as she and Mrs. Aleshine were busily placing a portion of our now very much reduced stock of provisions in the smallest of our baskets: "this is the first time in my life that I ever heard of people warmin' themselves up with hens' eggs and spirits, excep' when mixed up into egg-nog; and that they resisted that temptation and contented themselves with plain honest heat, though very little of it, shows what kind of people they must be. And now, do you suppose we could slide this basket in without upsettin' the little kittle?"
I called to the gentleman that we were about to send him a basket, and then, by the aid of an umbrella, I gently pushed it through the snow tunnel to a point where he could reach it. Hearty thanks came back to us through the hole, and when the basket and kettle were returned, we prepared our own evening meal.