I was glad to get home; my legs shook under me, and I could only stand and pant.

I had not a dry hair on my body, the water ran down my legs, and I steamed all over--Joe used to say, like a pot on the fire.

Poor Joe! he was young and small, and as yet he knew very little, and his father, who would have helped him, had been sent to the next village; but I am sure he did the very best he knew.

He rubbed my legs and my chest, but he did not put my warm cloth on me; he thought I was so hot I should not like it.

Then he gave me a pail full of water to drink; it was cold and very good, and I drank it all; then he gave me some hay and some corn, and, thinking he had done right, he went away.