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 race, and she was not so bad, either, at conjuring away styes and boils and ringworms; but for other ailments one would scarcely think of consulting her.  It was hardly the thing to expect help from a witch doctor for anything but trifling complaints.

The moment the old woman stepped into the room she noticed that the child was ill.  Katrina informed her that it had the scarlet fever, but nobody sought her advice.  That the parents were anxious and troubled she must have seen, of course, for as soon as Katrina had treated her to coffee and Jan had given her a piece of plug-tobacco, she said, entirely of her own accord: 

“This sickness is beyond my healing powers; but as much I’m able to tell you; you can find out whether it’s life or death.  Keep awake till midnight, then, on the stroke of twelve, place the tip of the forefinger of your left hand against the tip of the little finger, eyelet-like, and look through at the young one.  Notice carefully who lies beside her in the bed, and you’ll know what to expect.”

Katrina thanked her kindly, knowing it was best to keep on the good side of such folk; but she had no notion of doing as she had been told.

Jan attached no importance to the advice, either.  He thought of nothing but the shirt.  But how would he ever be able to muster courage enough to ask Katrina if he might tear up his wedding shirt?  That the little girl would not get any better on that account he understood, to be sure, and if she must die anyhow, he would just be throwing it away.

Katrina went to bed that evening at her usual hour, but Jan felt too troubled to sleep.  Seated in his corner, he could see how Glory Goldie was suffering.  That which she had under her was too rough and coarse.  He sat thinking how nice it would be if he could only make up a bed for the little girl that would feel cool and soft and smooth.

His shirt, freshly laundered and unused, lay in the bureau drawer.  It hurt him to think of its being there; at the same time he felt it would hardly be fair to Katrina to use her gift as a sheet for the child.

However, as it drew on toward midnight and Katrina was sleeping soundly, he went over to the bureau and took out the shirt.  First he tore away the stiff front, then he slit the shirt into two parts, whereupon he slipped one piece under the little girl’s body, and spread the other one between the child and the heavy quilt that covered her.

That done, he stole back to his corner and again took up his vigil.  He had not sat there long when the clock struck twelve.  Almost without thinking of what he was doing he put the two fingers of his left hand up to his eye, ring fashion, and peeped through at the bed.