"No," she faltered, "I--only want to ask--" But Jim Otis took her by the arm with gentle force, and she was so spent that she could but let him have his way, and lead her into the house and the warm living-room, staggering under his supporting clasp.
"Mother," called Jim Otis--"mother, come here, quick!" He placed Madelon tenderly on the settle, and his mother came hurriedly out of the pantry.
"What is it ?" she asked.

"What is the matter, Jim?
Who was it knocked?
Why, who's that ?" Madelon leaned back helplessly in the corner of the settle, her head hanging half unconsciously.

The young man stooped over her and unfastened her cloak and hood.

"Come here, quick, mother!" he cried, and his voice was as sweet with pity as a woman's.

"This poor girl is half dead with the cold." Mrs.Otis, large and fair-faced, with her soft, massive curves swathed in purple thibet, stared for a second in speechless wonder.
"Who is it?
How did she get here ?" she whispered.
"Hush--I don't know.