Hulda also stepped down and disappeared.
A woman, barely able to stand up, and white as illness and anguish could
make her, had staggered to the door to beg that her shoes be given back,
and pointed to her naked feet.
"Now she's off the bed, levy on that!" cried the military figure with
the long, eloquent face and twinkling eyes; "shove it out the window.
Mind your _fi. fa._ and I'll take care of the quotient."
"Have mercy!" cried the woman; "my child was only born last week."
"Fling out that good chair there, constable. Levy on the green chest!
Don't you see a whole quilt or blanket anywhere! Allow neither tret nor
suttle when you serve a writ for Isaac and Jacob Cannon!"
"Where shall I lie with my babe?" cried the poor woman, looking around
on the naked cabin, where neither bed, nor blanket, nor chair, nor
chest, nor spinning-wheel remained.
"_Li-vari facias!_ and _fi-eri facias!_ If there's a mistake a replevin
lies, but no mistakes are made by Isaac and Jacob Cannon. Constable, I
think I see an iron pot on that crane!"
"It's got meat in it, sir--meat a-bilin'," answered the constable.
"Turn out the meat! Levy on the pot! Make the quotient accurate!
Eliminate the pot from the equation!"
Out came the pot, as the material boiling in it put out the October
fire, and it was thrown in the miscellaneous heap at Jacob Cannon's
feet.
"Now take the cradle, hard-hearted man," the woman cried, "and turn the
baby into the fire, too, since I can cook nothing to make its milk in my
breasts.
Pages:
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418