Strange to say, every time the child began to toss on the bed Jan
would think of the finest thing he had to his name--his Sunday
shirt.

He possessed only one good shirt, which was of smooth white linen,
with a starched front It was so well made that it would have been
quite good enough for the superintendent at Doveness. And Jan was
very proud of that shirt. The rest of his wearing apparel, which
was in constant use, was as coarse as were the pillow-casings the
little girl lay on.

But maybe it was only stupid in him to be thinking of that shirt?
Katrina would never in the world let him ruin it, for she had given
it to him as a wedding present.

Anyhow, Katrina was doing all she could. She borrowed a horse from
Eric of Falla, wrapped the little one in shawls and quilts and rode
to the doctor's with her. That was courageous of Katrina--though
Jan could not see that it did any good. Certainly no help came out
of the big medicine bottle she brought back with her from the
apothecary's, nor from any of the doctor's other prescriptions.

Perhaps he would not be allowed to keep so rare a jewel as the
little girl, unless he was ready to sacrifice for her the best that
he had, mused he. But it would not be easy to make a person of
Katrina's sort understand this.

Old Finne-Karin came into the hut one day while the girl lay sick.
She knew how to cure sickness in animals, as do all persons of her