I thought for a moment of going down to sleep with Petter; he was getting better now, and there was no fear of infection. But I was afraid to go down the stairs.
It was a terrible night.
Next morning I searched high and low for the nail, and found it on the floor at last, among the shavings and sawdust. I took it out and buried it on the way to the wood.
“It's a question if you oughtn't to carry it back where you took it from,” said Falkenberg.
“Why, that's miles away—a whole long journey....”
“They won't ask about that if you're called to do it. Maybe she won't care about having a thumb one place and a thumbnail in another.”
But I was brave enough now; a very desperado in the daylight. I laughed at Falkenberg for his superstition, and told him science had disposed of all such nonsense long ago.