He saw portions of female clothing in the snow which Dr. Spenlove was pushing frantically away. He snatched up the babe, and, opening his fur coat, clasped the little one to his breast, and enveloped it in its warm folds. Meanwhile Dr. Spenlove was working at fever-heat. To release Mrs. Turner from her perilous position, to raise her to her feet, to put his mouth to her mouth, his ear to her heart, to assure himself there was a faint pulsation in her body--all this was the work of a few moments. "Does she breathe, doctor?" asked Mr. Moss. "She does," replied Dr. Spenlove; and added, in deep distress, "but she may die in my arms." "Not if we can save her. Here, help me off with this thick coat. Easy, easy; I have only one arm free. Now let us get her into it. That's capitally done. Put the baby inside as well; it will hold them both comfortably. Button it over them. There, that will keep them nice and warm. Do you know her? Does she live far from here? Is she the woman you are looking for?" "Yes, and her lodging is a mile away. How can we get her home?" "We'll manage it. Ah, we're in luck. Here's a cab coming towards us. Hold on to them while I speak to the driver." He was off and back again with the cab--with the driver of which he had made a rapid bargain--in a wonderfully short space of time. The mother and her babe were lifted tenderly in, the address was given to the driver, the two kind-hearted men took their seats, the windows were pulled up, and the cab crawled slowly on towards Mrs. Turner's lodging. Dr. Spenlove's skilful hands were busy over the woman, restoring animation to her frozen limbs, and Mr. Moss was doing the same to the child. "How are you getting along, doctor? I am progressing famously, famously. The child is warming up, and is beginning to breathe quite nicely." He was handling the babe as tenderly as if it were a child of his own. "She will recover, I trust," said Dr. Spenlove; "but we were only just in time. It is fortunate that I met you, Mr. Moss; you have been the means of saving two helpless, unfortunate beings." "Nonsense, nonsense," answered Mr. Moss. "I have only done what any man would do. It is you who have saved them, doctor, not I. I am proud to know you, and I shall be glad to hear of your getting along in the world. You haven't done very well up to now, I fear. Go for the big fish and the big birds, doctor." "If that were the universal law of life," asked Dr. Spenlove, in a tone of exquisite compassion, with a motion of his hands towards Mrs. Turner and her child, "what would become of these?" "Ah, yes, yes," responded Mr. Moss, gravely; "but I mean in a general way, you know. To be sure, there are millions more little fish and birds than there are big ones, but it's a selfish world, doctor." "You are not an exemplification of it," said Dr. Spenlove, his eyes brightening. "The milk of human kindness will never be frozen, even on such bitter nights as this, while men like you are in it."