“I wouldn’t come in, Arne. You know that,” she said. Her voice sounded muffled and unnatural. In the light which streamed from the kitchen window, he could see that her face looked as if she were trying not to cry.
“What is it? What is it, Margret?” he asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”
“We heard something over the radio,” said Margret; and now, in spite of her efforts, her voice broke into a sob. “Oh, Arne, there are storms at sea—bad ones—sleet storms and ice storms right where the Stjerne must be now!”
Arne’s heart seemed to turn right over. He knew very well the danger his brother was in. All his life he had heard of those winter storms at sea. He wished with all his might that Gustav’s ship was safe right here in Nordheim harbor.
5
A very quiet family gathered around the supper table that evening. Even the thought of his little ships didn’t bring Arne any cheer. Indeed, he could hardly bear even to think of ships. Mother tried to talk as usual, and so did Father, but no one’s heart was in it.
Arne could not settle down to anything. He wanted to ask questions, but knew there could be no comforting answers. At last, without being told, he wandered off to bed.