He went out as he had entered, but with more difficulty and peril. He crossed the kitchen-yard with long, easy strides.
But Martha was running after him, bareheaded. She lost a carpet slipper in the deep snow.
"Only come back, darlint"—she fought against tears—"and I'll fill the house with helpers from attic to cellar."
"One," said the Poor Boy judicially, "will do. The nearest employment bureau will be in Quebec. Isn't there somebody in the village?"
"In the village! In Quebec!"
"Only come back, darlint";—she fought against tears;—"and I'll fill the house with helpers from attic to cellar."
Her indignation was tremendous.
"This side of New York there's not a gentleman's servant to be had," said she, "and but few there. I'll have to go meself."