human
She tries first of all to count the minutes as they pass; but that is sleepy work, more particularly as she is tired, and really sometimes almost forgets herself for a minute. So she works away at some stiff, long sums in arithmetic, doing mental arithmetic as rapidly as ever she can. And so one hour passes, perhaps two. At the end of the second hour something very strange happens. All of a sudden she feels that arithmetic is pure nonsense--that it never leads anywhere nor does any one any good; and she feels also that never in the whole course of her life has she lain in a snugger bed than her snow-bed. And she remembers the fairies and their music in the middle of the summer night; and--hark! hark!--she hears them again! Why have they left their palace underground to come and see her? It is sweet of them, it is beautiful! They sit on her chest, they press close to her face, they kiss her with their wee lips, they bring comforting thoughts into her heart, they whisper lovely things into her ears. She has not felt alone from the very first; but now that the fairies have come she never, never could be happier than she is now. And then, away from the fairies (who stay close to her all the time), she lifts her eyes and looks at the stars; and oh, the stars are so bright! And, somehow, she remembers that God is up there; and she thinks about white-clad angels who came down once, straight from the stars, by means of a ladder, to help a good man in a Bible story; and she really sees the ladder again, and the angels going up and coming down--going up and coming down--and she gives a cry and says, 'Oh, take me too! Oh, take me too!' One angel more beautiful than she could possibly describe comes towards her, and the fairies give a little cry--for, sweet as they are, they have nothing to do with angels--and disappear. The angel has his strong arms round her, and he says, 'Your bed of snow is not so beautiful as where you shall lie in the land where no trouble can come.' Then she remembers no more.
gpt
It is the dogs who find her, and they dig her out of the snow, and the dear old shepherd and his wife and some other people come with them; and so she is brought back to the gray house, and never reaches the open doors where the angels ladder would have led her through. She is sorry--for days she is terribly sorry; for she is ill, and suffers a good bit of pain. But she is all right again now; only, somehow, she can never forget that experience. I think I have told you all I can tell you to-night.