cold--so miserable.

"Oh, why are you barefooted on such a cold night?" cried Faith.
"Your feet must be almost frozen."

"Pretty near," said Lida proudly. "I tell you it was fierce
walking up that harbour road."

"Why didn't you put on your shoes and stockings?" asked Una.

"Hain't none to put on. All I had was wore out by the time
winter was over," said Lida indifferently.

For a moment Faith stated in horror. This was terrible. Here
was a little girl, almost a neighbour, half frozen because she
had no shoes or stockings in this cruel spring weather.
Impulsive Faith thought of nothing but the dreadfulness of it.
In a moment she was pulling off her own shoes and stockings.

"Here, take these and put them right on," she said, forcing them
into the hands of the astonished Lida. "Quick now. You'll catch
your death of cold. I've got others. Put them right on."

Lida, recovering her wits, snatched at the offered gift, with a
sparkle in her dull eyes. Sure she would put them on, and that
mighty quick, before any one appeared with authority to recall
them. In a minute she had pulled the stockings over her scrawny
little legs and slipped Faith's shoes over her thick little
ankles.