Swinging the broom which she had brought with her, she almost literally swept them forth, flinging their belongings out into the snow.

Not even Rosenblatt, who lingered about, did she suffer to remain.
"Y're wife will not be nadin' ye, I'm thinkin', for a while.
Ye can just wait till I can bring ye wurrd av y're babby," she said, pushing him, not unkindly, from the room.
Rosenblatt, whose knowledge of English was sufficient to enable him to catch her meaning, began a vigorous protest: "Eet ees not my woman," he exclaimed.
"Eat, is it!" replied Mrs.Fitzpatrick, taking him up sharply.
"Indade ye can eat where ye can get it.

Faith, it's a man ye are, sure enough, that can niver forget y're stomach! An' y're wife comin' till her sorrow!" "Eet ees not my--" stormily began Rosenblatt.
"Out wid ye," cried Mrs.Fitzpatrick, impatiently waving her big red hands before his face.

"Howly Mother! It's the wurrld's wonder how a dacent woman cud put up wid ye!" And leaving him in sputtering rage, she turned to her duty, aiding, with gentle touch and tender though meaningless words, her sister woman through her hour of anguish.
In three days Paulina was again in her place and at her work, and within a week her household was re-established in its normal condition.

The baby, rolled up in an old quilt and laid upon her bed, received little attention except when the pangs of hunger wrung lusty protests from his vigorous lungs, and had it not been for Mrs.Fitzpatrick's frequent visits, the unwelcome little human atom would have fared badly enough.