"I wish to speak to you, Ole; I cannot sleep. My brother's wife wants to take away our boy."
He felt all the blood rush to his heart.
"What do you say?" he whispered.
"We have been too hard, we two. Now we shall have to pay for it; and she will not be satisfied with less."
"Dear Josephine, you are not yourself. Let us fetch help!" He started up.
"Yes, I am going to get help. All who can pray must come now! Do you hear, Ole?"
"But, dearest"
"Or do you not think that you all are stronger than she is; do you not think so? The other day you came home so happy from the prayer-meeting--oh, you know them, make them come, do make them come, Ole, do you hear?" She began sobbing and crying: "It is but a Christian's duty to bring help here. They cannot look on and see her take him from us!"
Her voice died away in a long wailing sound. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, and had put on his under-garments, but stopped now with his trousers in his hand.
"My dear, my dear, only believe that it is God who has the power and none other. Josephine, you are ill!"