butter turned to ice. The fire itself seemed unable to hold its
warmth. It mattered not how many logs one laid in the fireplace,
the heat spread no farther than to the edge of the hearth.

One day, when the winter was at its worst, Jan decided that instead
of going out to his work he would stay at home and help Katrina
keep the fire alive. Neither he nor the wife ventured outside the
hut that day, and the longer they remained indoors the more they
felt the cold. At five o'clock in the afternoon, when it began to
grow dark, Katrina said they might as well "turn in"; it was no
good their sitting up any longer, torturing themselves.

During the afternoon Jan had gone over to the window, time and
again, and peered out through a little corner of a pane that had
remained clear, though the rest of the glass was thickly crusted
with frost flowers. And now he went back there again.

"You can go to bed, Katrina dear," he said as he stood looking out,
"but I've got to stay up a while longer."

"Well I never!" ejaculated Katrina. "Why should you stay up? Why
can't you go to bed as well as I?"

But Jan did not reply to her questions. "It's strange I haven't
seen Agrippa Prästberg pass by yet," he said.

"Is it him you're waiting for!" snapped Katrina. "He hasn't been so
extra nice to you that you need feel called upon to sit up and
freeze on his account!"