In a certain way the heat was grateful, but in less than a minute I was bound to admit to myself that I felt as if I were enveloped in a vast warm poultice.

The little man and his wife--if wife she were, for she looked big enough to be his mother, and young enough to be his daughter--stood talking in the hall, and I could hear every word they said.
[Illustration: "ON MY RIGHT A LIGHTED DOORWAY"] "It's of no use for him to try to dry himself," she said, "for he's wet to the bone.

He must change his clothes, and hang those he's got on before the fire." "Change his clothes!" exclaimed the man.

"How ever can he do that?
I've nothing that'll fit him, and of course he has brought nothing along with him." "Never you mind," said she.

"Something's got to be got.