“Thank you Martin,” he said; “you have nourished my body and my soul.”
“You are welcome another time. I shall always be pleased to see you; come again.”
Stepan went out; Martin poured himself out a last cup of tea, drank it, cleared away the dishes and sat down again by the window to work, stitching the back seam of a boot. As he stitched he peered out of the window to see if Christ was coming, and he kept on thinking of Him and His doings and recalling His words.
Two soldiers passed; one in Government boots, the other in boots of his own; then the owner of the next house went by in clean goloshes, and a baker with a basket. All these passed on; then a woman came up in woollen stockings and coarse country shoes. She went by the window and stopped by the wall. Martin looked up and saw that she was a stranger, poorly clad, with a baby in her arms. She was standing with her back to the wind, trying to wrap up the baby, but there was nothing to wrap it in. Her garments were summer ones and ragged, too. Through the window Martin heard the baby crying; the woman tried to comfort it but could not.
Martin rose and going out at the door and up the steps, he called to her.
“Come this way, my dear!”
The woman turned to him.
“Don’t stand in the cold there with the baby; come inside in the warm; you can make him more comfortable here. Come along!”
The woman was surprised to see an old man in an apron and spectacles on his nose inviting her to his room, but she followed him. They descended the stairs and entered the room. Martin led her to the bed.
“Come and sit here, my dear,” he said. “It is nearer to the stove; you can warm yourself and feed the baby.”