It was so cold that Elizabeth did not stand to ask about Sadie, but turned to the house to escape the blast.
“I’ll come for you at five if I can get back. I’m going over to see about some calves at Warren’s,” John said as they went up the path.
“Is that why you insisted that I bring the baby? You needn’t have been afraid to tell me; you do as you please anyhow.”
“H-s-sh! Here comes Hansen,” John Hunter said warningly, and turned back to the wagon, giving the child into Luther’s arms at the door.
Luther Hansen cuddled the child warmly to him and without waiting to go in the house raised the white shawl from its sleeping face for a peep at it.
“We lost ours,” he said simply.
The house sheltered them from the wind, and Elizabeth stopped and looked up at him in astonishment.
“You don’t mean it? I—I didn’t know you were expecting a child, Luther. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known.”
The expression of sympathy escaped her unconsciously. Elizabeth would always want to know of Luther’s joys and sorrows.
A glad little light softened the pain in his face, and he looked at her with a steady gaze, discerning the feeling of sound friendship behind the words.