Somebody came in with a light step, and Sarah Holdfast's pleasant voice asked, "Why, Mrs. Stevens, is this the way you spend your evening?"
Martha sat slowly more upright, wearing a dazed look.
"O dear, I'm tired," she said. "I didn't know it was so late."
"And the children up still?"
"They were so cold, I made a bit more fire, and they didn't seem to want to leave it. I must have been near asleep too," Martha gasped listlessly. "Well, I've got to wake 'em now."
"Wait a minute. I'll light your candle. I've got a loaf of bread here, and some butter and a jug of milk. Poor thing!" as a faint cry escaped Martha. "You're so hungry, aren't you? There's a basket of food come from Mr. Hughes, and I knew John would want you to have a share. Don't you stir yet."
Martha did not move. She sat motionless, staring down at the little head on her arm.
Mrs. Holdfast had already lighted the candle, and pulled down the blind.
"Why, you're as white as a sheet, you poor thing!" she said, stirring quickly about. "There! Give the children something to eat before they go to bed. And it's plain you want it too. Well, my husband's in hopes the strike will soon be over; and I'm sure I hope the same. It's been a hard time for you all. I'll tell you what—a cup of tea will do you more good than anything. Haven't got any? Never mind, I'll put the kettle on to boil, and get a pinch in from next door."
Martha had not answered save by silence.