"Well, of all the mutton heads!" exclaimed Steve. "Does the baby drink milk, Mrs. Olsen?"
"Yes, when we have it."
"Oh, that's too bad. But never mind; I'm going out in a few minutes, and I will send in some fresh milk for the little one. Come, now; sit up and have something to eat."
The family gathered at the table. The doctor, in the meantime, had wrapped the child in blankets, and, telling Mrs. Olsen she might call at the company's hospital in the morning to see it, the kind-hearted physician strode out of the house with his little burden. It was but a short distance to the company's hospital, and he believed he would be able to get the child there much more comfortably in his own arms than in the hospital ambulance.
With a gladness in her eyes that had not been seen there for many days Mrs. Olsen seated herself at the table. Segunder had to be fairly pushed there by Steve. Even when the big Icelander had taken his place at the table he did not eat. He sat with his big eyes fixed wonderingly on the face of Steve Rush.
"Now, you are all fixed and we will leave you. I'll send the milk in for the baby as soon as I can find it. I'll get it, even if I have to milk somebody's cow on the sly. Segunder, you come to me at the mine in the morning, and I will see that you get to work. Good night, all. Come on, Bob."
All at once Segunder Olsen's face was buried on his arms on the table and his huge frame was shaking with sobs of joy. He understood at last. All that had been so unreal to him for the last hour had now become sudden, sweet realities.
The Iron Boys hastily left the house, and though neither would have admitted it, there was a suspicious moisture in the eyes of each.