Dolly West's mother still sat by the kitchen fire. It was long past midnight now.
Once more Bad-Weather Tom tiptoed in from the frosty night. "Is she sleepin' still?" he whispered.
"Hush! She've jus' toppled off again. She's havin' a deal o' pain, Tom. An' she've been bleedin' again."
"Put her down on the bed, dear."
The woman shook her head. "I'm afeared 'twould start the wounds, Tom. Any sign of un yet, Tom?"
"Not yet."
"He'll come soon."
"No; 'tis not near time. 'Twill be dawn afore he——"
"Soon, Tom."
"He'll be delayed by snow. The moon's near gone. 'Twill be black dark in half an hour. I felt a flake o' snow as I come in. An' he'll maybe wait at Mad Harry——"