"'Pears like I'll have to ask some of yere to go out in de woods a piece—thar's a queer looking gal out thar, an' she's mighty nigh froze to death; she is, sartin."
"Where is she, Matthias?"
"Clean over thar; quite a piece, miss."
"Near any house?" I said.
"Wall, miss, she mout be two or three good steps from that thar brick-colored house."
"Oh, clear over there? Well," I said, "I'll go over if Lou Desmonde will go with me."
"I will go, only never call me that again. Matthias calls me Mas'r Louis, and he says I remind him of a mighty nice fellow down in South Carliny," said Louis.
"Yis, sah, you does," said Matthias.
Telling mother and Aunt Hildy what we were going out to find, we started.
It was a very cold day, and through our warm clothing the winds of March pierced the marrow of our bones. We found the woman, who proved to be, as Matthias had said, nearly frozen. Louis took her right in his arms to the nearest shelter, Mr. Goodwin's, the brick-colored house, and his good, motherly wife had her put into the large west-room, where the spare bed was made so temptingly clean, and with such an airy feather mattress, that, light as she was, the poor girl sank into it almost out of sight. Matthias brought wood and made a fire on the hearth, and Mrs. Goodwin, Louis and I worked hard for an hour chafing her purple limbs, her swelled feet and hands, and at last she turned her head uneasily, and murmured: