shoes gaped widely at the toe; and the other was
run down at the heel so badly, that part of his foot and old ragged
stocking touched the floor. A common sealskin cap, with the front
part nearly torn off, was in his hand. He had removed this from his
head on entering, and stood, with his eyes now resting on mine, and
now dropping beneath my gaze, waiting for me to ask his errand. I
did not recognise him.

"Well, my little man," I said, "is any one sick?"

"Please sir, Mr. Maxwell wants you to come down and see Johnny."

"Mr. Maxwell! Do you live with Mr. Maxwell?"

"Yes, sir."

I now recognized the lad. He was a good deal changed since I last
saw him, and changed for the worse.

"What is the matter with Johnny?" I asked.

"I believe he's got the croup."

"Indeed! Is he very sick?"

"Yes, sir. He can't hardly breathe at all, and goes all the time
just so--" Imitating the wheezing sound attendant upon constricted
respiration.

"Very well, my boy, I will be there in a little while, But, bless
me! you will get the croup as well as Johnny, if you go out in such
weather as this and have on no warmer clothing than covers you now.
Come up to the stove and warm yourself--you are shivering all over.
Why did not you bring an umbrella?"

"Mr. Maxwell never lets me take the umbreller," said the boy
innocently.

"He doesn't? But he sends you out in the rain?"

"Oh yes--always. Sometimes I am wet all day."

"Doesn't it make you sick?"

"I feel bad, and ache all over sometimes after I have been wet; and
sometimes my face swells up and pains me so I can't sleep."

"Do not your feet get very cold? Have you no better shoes than
these?"

"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?"