An old negro woman sat shivering over a few coals on the hearth, trying
in vain to warm her half-frozen extremities.

"Why, Aunt Mabel, have you no fire?" said May, going close to her, and
laying her hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Miss May! Lord bless you, honey! You come in like a sperrit.
No, indeed, honey; I ain't had none to speak on these two days."

"And your feet are almost frozen," said May, with a pitying glance.

"They's mighty cold, misses; but sit down, and let me look at you; it
will warm me up," said the old woman, trying to smile.

"Let me put these on your poor old feet first," said May, kneeling
down, and drawing off the tattered shoes from her feet, while she
chafed them briskly with her hands; then slipped the soft warm
stockings and slippers on them, ere the old creature could fully
comprehend her object; then opening the shawl, she folded it about the
bowed and shivering form. With a blended expression of gratitude and
amazement, old Mabel looked at her feet, then at the shawl, then at
May, who stood off enjoying it, and finally covered her face with her
hand, and wept outright.

"Now, indeed, Aunt Mabel, this is not right; why, I thought you'd be
pleased," said May, lifting up her paralyzed hand, which lay helplessly
on her knees, and smoothing it gently between her own.

"_Pleased_, honey! I am so full I'm chokin', I b'lieve. What you do
all this for Miss May? I'm only a poor old nigger; I got no friends; I