She saw nothing, but put her hands down, and touched a little cold
face. She dragged the child out of the snow, which had almost
covered it, and set it on its feet.

"Who are you?" she asked, putting her face down close, while by
vigorous patting and rubbing she tried to give life to the benumbed,
cowering little figure, which staggered along helplessly, clutching
her with half-frozen fingers.

"Benny Withers!" sobbed the child. "Mother sent me for the clothes,
but I can't get 'em!"

"Benny Withers!" cried Maine. "Why, you live close by. Why didn't
you go home, child?"

"I can't!" cried the boy. "I can't see nothing. I tried to get to
the school, an' I tried to get home, an' I can't get nowhere 'cept
against this wall. Let me stay here now! I want to rest me a little."

He would have sunk down again, but Maine caught him up in her strong,
young arms.

"Here, climb up on my back, Benny!" she said, cheerfully. "Hold on
tight round my neck, and you shall rest while I take you home. So!
That's a brave boy! Upsy, now! there you are! Now put your head on
my shoulder--close! and hold on!"

Ah! how Maine blessed the heavy little brother at home, who _would_
ride on his sister's back, long after mamma said he was too big. How
she blessed the carryings up and down stairs, the "horsey rides"