The lady wore shoes, of course, and she could not get through the woods and over the foot-logs as easily as the little barefooted children. But at last, just before dark, they crossed one more stream over a particularly small and wabbly foot-log, and there they were. “That is the house,” said the guide, as they came out into the clearing where the cabbages and cornstalks were growing. “Where?” said the lady. “There,” said the guide, pointing to the cabin. It was then that the lady felt very much astonished. Ladies always feel very much astonished in these mountains, because nothing ever turns out as they expect. This lady had expected to find a little hotel, you remember. But where is Baby Mitchell all this time? you are asking. Oh, he is safe enough yet. Nothing at all has happened to him, and you must wait patiently until it is time for something to happen. The lady is very tired, remember,—or at least as tired as anybody can be in that enchanted forest; and she is hungry, and must have her supper. When the mother of the little children saw the lady coming, she was glad as well as astonished, and ran to meet her. “Law me! You must be plumb tired out,” she said. “Come right along in, and set down and rest yourself. We hain’t got much, but what we have got you’re welcome to.” That is the way the mountain people always talk. Their grammar is all wrong, but their hearts are all right,—and a good heart is worth a great deal more than good grammar; don’t you think so? So the lady went in. There was nothing else to do. She couldn’t _possibly_ have gone back all that way through the forest and across the rivers at night, you know. And though the log-house was so small and so crowded, she felt that she was not in the way, the mother and all the little children looked so friendly at her. She was quite a wonderful lady,—or at least so thought that family in the woods; for while the little children stood looking at her, what do you think? There she sat—with a doll in her hands! It was a little doll, but it had real hair, and when you laid it down it shut its eyes. The little children who lived in the cabin had never seen a doll in their long lives before,—never. But they knew right away what it was for. So did the lady. She knew very well it was meant for children to play with; and presently she laid it in the arms of one of the little girls. And the little girl grabbed it tight in both hands, as if she were afraid it would run away. Then she laid it up over her shoulder, with its curly head in the hollow of her neck, just as her mother held the baby, and she patted it softly with a gentle motherly touch of her chubby little hand, and, oh, how her eyes did shine! Then, wonder of wonders!—there was another doll in the lady’s hand, and she put it into the arms of another little girl; and still another doll came out of her pocket, or somewhere, for the third little girl; and the three dolls were all as much alike as two peas.