The house on the left was large, high, built entirely of stone, with a
slated roof. It was also closed. It was the rich man's home, opposite to
that of the pauper.

The boy did not hesitate. He approached the great mansion. The double
folding-door of massive oak, studded with large nails, was of the kind
that leads one to expect that behind it there is a stout armoury of
bolts and locks. An iron knocker was attached to it. He raised the
knocker with some difficulty, for his benumbed hands were stumps rather
than hands. He knocked once.

No answer.

He struck again, and two knocks.

No movement was heard in the house.

He knocked a third time.

There was no sound. He saw that they were all asleep, and did not care
to get up.

Then he turned to the hovel. He picked up a pebble from the snow, and
knocked against the low door.

There was no answer.

He raised himself on tiptoe, and knocked with his pebble against the
pane too softly to break the glass, but loud enough to be heard.