"Now Jan shall have a peek at the li'l' lassie She's what I'd call a real baby!" said the midwife.
And there stood Jan, holding in his two hands something soft and warm done up in a big shawl, a corner of which had been turned back that he might see the little wrinkled face and the tiny wizzened hands. He was wondering what the womenfolk expected him to do with that which had been thrust upon him, when he felt a sudden shock that shook both him and the child. It had not come from any of the women and whether it had passed through the child to him or through him to the child, he could not tell.
Immediately after, the heart of him began to beat in his breast as it had never done before. Now he was no longer cold, or sad, or worried. Nor did he feel angry. All was well with him. But he could not comprehend why there was a thumping and a beating in his breast, when he had not been dancing, or running, or climbing hills.
"My good woman," he said to the midwife, "do lay your hand here and feel of my heart! It seems to beat so queerly."
"Why, it's a regular attack of the heart!" the midwife declared.
"But perhaps you're subject to these spells?"
"No," he assured her. "I've never had one before—not just in this way."
"Do you feel bad? Are you in pain?"
"Oh, no!"
Then the midwife could not make out what ailed him. "Anyhow," said she, "I'll relieve you of the child."
But now Jan felt he did not want to give up the child. "Ah, let me hold the little girl!" he pleaded.