The blood came rushing back into her cheeks, and she cast down her eyes, but made no sign of taking the hands held out to her.
Then she said in a low voice, without lifting her eyes from the floor--
"Will you be so kind. Uncle Leo, as to tell the dog to be quiet. The woman here is ill, and her husband is gone to Münsterberg for the doctor."
A motion of his foot sent the dog into a corner.
"But how about you, my child?" he exclaimed, "you don't speak of yourself."
She had been quite prepared for a scolding, and was not sure in what tone she should answer this overwhelming friendliness. A wavering smile, alike defiant and pained, played about the corners of her mouth.
"Well, you see what I am doing," she said, evading his glance. "I am here brewing elder tea for the sick woman."
A kettle stood on the tripod near her on the hearth, licked by the ruddy flames.
"And what have you got on?" he asked.
She stepped quickly out of the circuit of light cast by the fire, and drew the shawl, with her left hand, closer round her throat.