So the flock marched back to the table, and, beginning with Jim, the eldest, each inquired respectfully:
“Mother, will you excuse me?”
“Certainly,” came the prompt response.
Even the babies lisped and gurgled their merry, imitative “’Scuse me’s,” though with no thought of any attention being paid them.
“Folks without much money can’t afford to go without manners,” laughed father John, and, himself asking leave of the little woman behind the coffeepot, followed his children to the rear window.
For the ringing of the bell was so prolonged and so insistent in its demands that he no longer doubted it to be a signal of distress. But it was almost impossible to see even a few feet through the blinding clouds of snow, and raising the sash the plumber hallooed:
“What’s wanted? Anybody in trouble?”
“Help’s wanted! Awful trouble!” came the answering shout.
“Where?”
“Armacost’s. Will you lend a hand? All afloat and frozen up!”