coming?" he muttered, impatiently kicking at a small stick of wood
and sending it flying across the yard. "This is about the worst
luck that could come to me! When we got married, Katrina and I, it
was because we were tired of drudging as hired girl and farmhand
for Eric of Falla, and wanted to plant our feet under our own
table; but certainly not to raise children!"

He buried his face in his hands and sighed heavily. It was plain
that the chilly dampness and the long dreary wait had somewhat to
do with putting him in a bad humour, but they were by no means the
only cause. The real reason for his lament was something far more
serious.

"I've got to work every day," he reminded himself, "work from early
morning till late in the evening; but so far I've at least had some
peace nights. Now I suppose that young one will be squalling the
whole night long, and I'll get no rest then, either."

Whereupon an even worse fear seized him. Taking his hands from
before his face he wrung them so hard that the knuckles fairly
cracked. "Up to this we've managed to scratch along pretty well,
because Katrina, has been free to go out and work, the same as
myself, but now she'll have to sit at home and take care of that
young one."

He sat staring in front of him as hopelessly as if he had beheld
Famine itself stalking across the yard and making straight for
his hut.

"Well!" said he, bringing his two fists down on the chopping-block