that made him even more wretched. He felt that he was being
slighted and set aside.

"There are three womenfolk, beside the midwife, in there with
Katrina," he murmured. "One of them, at least, might have taken the
trouble to come and tell me whether it's a boy or a girl."

He could hear them bustling about, as they made up a fire, and saw
them run out to the well to fetch water, but of his existence no
one seemed to be aware.

Of a sudden he clapped his hands to his eyes and began to rock
himself backward and forward. "My dear Jan Anderson," he said in
his mind, "what's wrong with you? Why does everything go against
you? Why must you always have such a dull time of it? And why
couldn't you have married some good-looking young girl, instead of
that ugly old Katrina from Falla?"

He was so unspeakably wretched! Even a few tears trickled down
between his fingers. "Why are you made so little of in the parish,
my good Jan Anderson? Why should you always be pushed back for
others? You know there are those who are just as poor as yourself
and whose work is no better than yours; but no one gets put down
the way you do. What can be the matter with you, my dear Jan
Anderson?"

These were queries he had often put to himself, though in vain, and
he had no hope of finding the answer to them now, either. After
all, perhaps there was nothing wrong with him? Perhaps the only
explanation was that both God and his fellowmen were unfair to him?