helped the old negress wrap Fessenden's up in
it, from head to foot, wet clothes and all.

"Now your big warm gret-cut, pappy!"

"Pappy" was her own son; and the "gret-cut" was his old, gray, patched
and double-patched surtout, which now came down from its peg, and spread
its broad flaps, like brooding wings, over the half-drowned human
chicken.

"Now put in the wood, boys! Pour some of that 'ere hot tea down his
throat. Bless him, we'll sweat the cold out of him! we'll give him a
steaming!"

She held with her own hand the cracked tea-cup to the lad's lips, and
made him drink. Then she pulled up the comforter about his face, till
nothing of him was visible but his nose and a curl or two of saturated
tow. Then she had him moved up close to the glowing stove, like a huge
chrysalis to be hatched by the heat.

The dozing centenarian now roused again, and, perceiving the little nose
in the big bundle on the other side of the chimney, was once more
reminded of the sacred duties of hospitality. So he got upon his
trembling old legs again, pulled off his cap, and bowed and smiled as
before, with exquisite politeness, across the stove. "Sarvant, Sah!
Welcome, Sah!". And he sat down, and dozed again.

Fessenden's was not in a position to return the courteous salute. The
old woman had by this time got his feet packed into the stove-oven, and
he was beginning to smoke.

"Oh, Bill! just look a' Joe!" cried one of the girls.

Bill left smoothing his broadcloth, and, turning up the whites of his
eyes, uttered a despairing groan. "Oh, that child! that child! that
child!"--his voice running up into a wild falsetto howl.

The child thus passionately alluded to had possessed himself of Bill's
genteel silk hat, which had been tenderly put away to dry. It had been
sadly soaked by the rain, and bruised by the flopping umbrella which
Fessenden's had unhappily attempted to hold over it. And now Joe had
knocked in the crown, whilst geting it down from its peg with the broom.
He had thought to improve its appearance by stroking the nap the wrong
way with his sleeve. Lastly, putting it on his head, he had crushed the
sides together, to prevent its coming quite down over his eyes and ears
and resting on his shoulders. And there he was, with the broken umbrella
spread, hitting the top of the hat with it at every step, as he strutted
around the room in emulation of his brother's elegant style.

"My name's Mr. Bill Williams, Asquare!" si