She rose, half-provoked and half-ashamed of her futile attempt. It was natural that neither of these circumstances should effect an improvement in her temper.

"You did it a purpose," she said, shaking her fist at Pomp, who stood about a rod off, grinning at her discomfiture. "There, I've gone an' broke my specs, that I bought two years ago, come fall, of a pedler. I'll make you pay for 'em."

"Lor', missus, I ain't got no money," said Pomp. "Nebber had none."

Unfortunately for the old lady, it was altogether probable that Pomp spoke the truth this time.

"Three and sixpence gone!" groaned Mrs. Payson. "Fust my bunnit, an' then my specs. I'm the most unfort'nit' crittur. Why don't you help me, Sam Thompson, instead of standin' and gawkin' at me?" she suddenly exclaimed, glaring at Sam.

"I didn't know as you was ready," said Sam. "You might have been out before this, ef you hadn't let go. Here, Pomp, lend a hand." Pomp shook his head decisively.

"Don't catch dis chile again," he said. "I'm goin' home. Ole woman wants to lick me."

Sam endeavored to persuade Pomp, but he was deaf to persuasion. He squatted down on the snow, and watched the efforts his companion made to extricate the old lady. When she was nearly out he started on a run, and was at a safe distance before Mrs. Payson was in a situation to pursue him.