Deb jumped up and followed him. Her heart beat wildly, and something in her throat nearly choked her. What could she do? Her thoughts ran to Mrs. Snitzer. She knew the kind German woman needed money as much as any of the tool works people did, but perhaps she could give some help, or offer some advice.
She flew to the door of her neighbor's apartments, and knocked eagerly. No answer came, and then she knocked more loudly than ever.
Suddenly she remembered that Mrs. Snitzer had signified her intention of taking her whole family to her brother's farm for a few days, and possibly until the end of the shut-down.
"It's no use, they're all gone!" she sighed. "There is no help to be had!"
Meanwhile the constable worked rapidly. In his time he had been in situations where the neighbors had interfered with him, and he wished to get away as soon as possible.
Soon there was quite a respectable stock of furniture and other household effects piled upon the sidewalk. Deb packed up the smaller stuff as fast as she could--the china and crockery in baskets, and the clothing and linen in the two old family trunks. Truth to admit, the constable did not hurry her a bit more than he could help.
Presently Deb went below to see that no one should walk away with some of their belongings. Her eyes were red and swollen, and a more wretched girl could not have been found in all Corney.
As she sat down on one of the upturned wash tubs she wondered what she was to do. She had no neighbors, and with the exception of the Snitzers they were all strangers to her--they on their part deeming her "stuck up," and perhaps rejoicing to see her placed in her present humiliating position.
The wild hope of Jack's return came constantly to her mind, and twice she ran down to the corner vainly straining her eyes to catch sight of his well-known form.
"If I had only accepted Mont's aid," she thought, "I wonder where I could find him?"