'Bring a chair, Simmun.

Now, an't you the better for it, mim?
Don't you feel more yourself than you would have done if you'd have stopped at home?
Oh, gracious! how cold you are! Goodness me, sir, she's a perfect heap of ice.' 'I can't help it, my good girl.

You had better take her in to the fire,' said the locksmith.
'Master sounds unfeeling, mim,' said Miggs, in a tone of commiseration, 'but such is not his intentions, I'm sure.

After what he has seen of you this day, I never will believe but that he has a deal more affection in his heart than to speak unkind.

Come in and sit yourself down by the fire; there's a good dear--do.' Mrs Varden complied.