And the girl thanking him, knocked at her sister’s door, spoke to some one inside, and returning, asked him to come in. To his surprise he found Sigrid in the little kitchen; she was walking to and fro with the baby, a sturdy little fellow of a year old.
“You are back at last,” she said, “I was getting quite anxious about you. Mr. Hallifield was taken so much worse to-day, and hearing the baby crying I came in to help.”
“How about the doctor? Do they want him fetched?”
“No, he came here about ten o’clock, and he says there is nothing to be done; it is only a question of hours now.”
At this moment the poor wife came into the kitchen; she was still quite young, and the dumb anguish in her face brought the tears to Sigrid’s eyes.
“What, Clara!” she exclaimed, perceiving her sister, “you back again!”
“I was too late,” said the girl, “and they had locked me out. But it’s no matter now that the gentleman has let me in here. Is John worse again.”
“He’ll not last long,” said the wife, “and he be that set on getting in here to the fire, for he’s mortal cold. But I doubt if he’s strength to walk so far.”
“Frithiof, you could help him in,” said Sigrid.
“Will you, sir? I’ll thank you kindly if you will,” said Mrs. Hallifield, leading the way to the bedroom.