How long he had been lying thus he did not know, when a heavy step came upon the plank outside the door.
"Father's home!" cried little Baptiste, springing to the floor as the door opened.
"Baptiste! my own Baptiste!" cried Delima, putting her arms around her husband as he stood over her.
"Did I not say," said the old woman, seizing her son's hand, "that the good God would send help in time?"
Little Baptiste lit the lamp. Then they saw something in the father's face that startled them all. He had not spoken, and now they perceived that he was haggard, pale, wild-eyed.
"The good God!" cried big Baptiste, and knelt by the bed, and bowed his head on his arms, and wept so loudly that little André and Odillon, wakening, joined his cry. "Le bon Dieu has forgotten us! For all my winter's work I have not one dollar! The concern is failed. Rewbell paid not one cent of wages, but ran away, and the timber has been seized."
Oh, the heartbreak! Oh, poor Delima! poor children! and poor little Baptiste, with the threats of Conolly rending his heart!
"I have walked all day," said the father, "and eaten not a thing. Give me something, Delima."
"O holy angels!" cried the poor woman, breaking into a wild weeping. "O Baptiste, Baptiste, my poor man! There is nothing; not a scrap; not any flour, not meal, not grease even; not a pinch of tea!" but still she searched frantically about the rooms.