"It's no use," said the housekeeper, who had seated herself to rock the cradle; "you are wet through to your skin; and you can't get warm till you put on dry clothes."
She went to a closet and took out her husband's Sunday clothes a woolen undershirt, and a pair of thick socks. Harvey thought of Paradise when he saw them, for he was so chilled that to be warm again seemed to him the climax of earthly joy. The woman laid them on the bed in an adjoining chamber, and then begged him to put them on. He needed no urging, and soon his trembling limbs were encased in the warm, dry clothes. The coat and pants were much too short for him, but otherwise they fitted very well. When he came out of the chamber, with his wet clothes in his hands, he found a cup of hot tea on the table waiting for him.
"Now drink this," said his kind host. "It will help to warm you up; and I will put your things where they will dry."
Harvey drank the tea, and the effect was excellent. A short time before the stove restored the warmth to his body, and he began to feel quite comfortable.
"I feel good now," said he, with a sickly smile. "I'm really a new man."
"Now I wish you would tell me about the wreck," added the woman, as she rocked the cradle till it was a heavy sea for the baby, which threatened it with shipwreck.
"Certainly; I'll tell you all about it," replied Harvey.
He started his story at the West India Islands; but, with his drawl and his hacking cough, he made slow progress. He had not reached the coast of Maine when the woman's husband arrived. Of course he was astonished to find a stranger so comfortably installed in his house; but when his wife explained who the steward was, he became as hospitable and friendly as his wife had been.
"This is my husband, John Carter," said the woman, as the man of the house seated himself at the stove.
"My name is Harvey Barth," added the shipwrecked. "I was cook and steward of the brig Waldo; but she is gone to pieces now."