'She is well-nigh clemmed,' said Hal. 'She has had no bite nor sup
all day, since her pony fell with her out a-hawking, and all were so
hot on the chase that none heeded her.'

Mother Doll's exclamations of pity were profuse. There was a kettle
of broth on the peat fire, and after placing the girl in a corner of
the settle, she filled three wooden bowls, two of which she placed
before Hal and the shepherd, making signs to the heavy-browed Piers
to wait; and getting no reply from her worn-out guest, she took her
in her arms, and fed her from a wooden spoon. Though without clear
waking, mouthfuls were swallowed down, till the bowl was filled again
and set before Piers.

'There, that will be enough this day!' said the good dame. 'Poor
bairn! 'Twas scurvy treatment. Now will we put her to bed, and in
the morn we will see how to deal with her.'

Hal insisted that the little lady should have his own bed--a chaff-
stuffed mattress, covered with a woollen rug, in the recess behind
the projecting hearth--a strange luxury for a farm boy; and Doll
yielded very unwillingly when he spoke in a tone that savoured of
command. The shaggy Piers had already curled himself up in a corner
and gone to sleep.




CHAPTER II. THE SNOW-STORM