“Here’s pretty doings!” thought Enoch; “two little young ones froze to death, and no house in sight! What were their folks thinking of, to let ’em out in such a trimmer of a storm? None o’ my business; much as I can do to take care o’ myself.”
But Enoch had a heart, after all, and could not leave the children to perish. He took Tate in his arms, she being the lighter of the two, and, as he could see, the fainter-hearted, and bade Dotty follow.
“I can’t,” said she, feebly.
“Nonsense! yes, you can, too.”
Dotty did not rise.
This would never do. Enoch held up Tate with his left hand, and with his right raised Dotty and shook her fiercely.
“Now come along,” said he; “if you don’t, I’ll call the dog.”
A Friend in Need.—[Page 112].
Dotty roused at once. Enoch’s words scattered the mist which was spreading over her thoughts, just as his mother’s scolding scattered the cobwebs from the rafters. Dotty found she was not dead yet, and, more than that, she was not going to allow herself to be killed by a dog that belonged to the Rosenberg family. So she clung to Enoch, and struggled on. She hardly knew whether it was hours or minutes, for time was in a blur, like everything else; but by and by they came to a house.