“Why did you do that?”

“Why, it had nearly all come out, so I cut it off!”

“Oh!⁠ ⁠… oh!” moaned the old woman; “oh! God has forgotten me! He does not take my soul. If the Lord won’t take it, it can’t go of itself! Oh!⁠ ⁠… oh! It must be for my sins!⁠ ⁠… I’ve nothing to moisten my throat.⁠ ⁠… If only I had a drop of tea to drink before I die.⁠ ⁠… Oh!⁠ ⁠… oh!”

The doctor entered the hut, and I said goodbye and went out into the street.

We got into the sledge, and drove to a small neighbouring village to see the doctor’s last patient, who had sent for him the day before. We went into the hut together.

The room was small, but clean; in the middle of it a cradle hung from the ceiling, and a woman stood rocking it energetically. At the table sat a girl of about eight, who gazed at us with surprised and frightened eyes.