"I've got a better pair of shoes: but they hurt my feet so I can't wear them. Thomas, one of the boys, gave me these old ones."
"Why do they hurt your feet? Are they too small?"
"No, sir, I don't think they are. But my feet are sore."
I feared as much as this. "What is the matter with your feet?" I asked.
"I don't know, sir. The boys say that nothing's the matter with them, only they're a little snow-burnt."
"How do they feel?"
"They burn and itch, and are so tender I can hardly touch them. I can't sleep at nights sometimes for the burning and itching."
I examined the boy's feet, and found them red, shining and tumefied, with other indications of a severe attack of chilblains.
"What have you done for your feet?" I asked. "Does Mr. Maxwell know they are so bad?"
"I showed them to him, and he said it was only a snow-burn, and that I must put my feet in snow and let it draw the cold out."