Chapter II

On the 3rd of September Barbro was not to be found.  ’Twas not that she was altogether lost, but she was not up at the house.

Axel was doing carpenter’s work the best he could; he was trying hard to get a glass window and a door set in the new house, and it was taking all his time to do it.  But being long past noon, and no word said about coming in to dinner, he went in himself into the hut.  No one there.  He got himself some food, and looked about while he was eating.  All Barbro’s clothes were hanging there; she must be out somewhere, that was all.  He went back to his work on the new building, and kept at it for a while, then he looked in at the hut again—­no, nobody there.  She must be lying down somewhere.  He sets out to find her.

“Barbro!” he calls.  No.  He looks all round the houses, goes across to some bushes on the edge of his land, searches about a long while, maybe an hour, calls out—­no.  He comes on her a long way off, lying on the ground, hidden by some bushes; the stream flows by at her feet, she is barefoot and bareheaded, and wet all up the back as well.

“You lying here?” says he.  “Why didn’t you answer?”

“I couldn’t,” she answers, and her voice so hoarse he can scarcely hear.

“What—­you been in the water?”

“Yes.  Slipped down—­oh!”

“Is it hurting you now?”

“Ay—­it’s over now.”

“Is it over?” says he.

“Yes.  Help me to get home.”

“Where’s ...?”

“What?”

“Wasn’t it—­the child?”

“No.  Twas dead.”

“Was it dead?”

“Yes.”

Axel is slow of mind, and slow to act.  He stands there still.  “Where is it, then?” he asks.

“You’ve no call to know,” says she.  “Help me back home.  Twas dead.  I can walk if you hold my arm a bit.”

Axel carries her back home and sets her in a chair, the water dripping off her.  “Was it dead?” he asks.

“I told you ’twas so,” she answers.

“What have you done with it, then?”

“D’you want to smell it?  D’you get anything to eat while I was away?”

“But what did you want down by the water?”

“By the water?  I was looking for juniper twigs.”

“Juniper twigs?  What for?”

“For cleaning the buckets.”

“There’s none that way,” says he.

“You get on with your work,” says she hoarsely, and all impatient.  “What was I doing by the water?  I wanted twigs for a broom.  Have you had anything to eat, d’you hear?”

“Eat?” says he.  “How d’you feel now?”

“Tis well enough.”

“I doubt I’d better fetch the doctor up.”

“You’d better try!” says she, getting up and looking about for dry clothes to put on.  “As if you’d no better to do with your money!”

Axel goes back to his work, and ’tis but little he gets done, but makes a bit of noise with planing and hammering, so she can hear.  At last he gets the window wedged in, and stops the frame all round with moss.