Even the house-mistress was perturbed. She left her wheel and
crossed the room to her son, and spoke with him for a moment in a
low tone that none could overhear. But a moment later her voice
was high-pitched and loud, so that all might benefit by her rebuke
of the "heathen chatter" of one of the girls. Perhaps she essayed
to silence thus her own misgivings and forebodings.

No other voice dared speak now with its natural fulness. Low tones
made intermittent murmurs, and now and then silence drifted over
the whole room. The handling of tools was as noiseless as might
be, and suspended on the instant if the door rattled in a gust of
wind. After a time Sweyn left his work, joined the group nearest
the door, and loitered there on the pretence of giving advice and
help to the unskilful.

A man's tread was heard outside in the porch. "Christian!" said
Sweyn and his mother simultaneously, he confidently, she
authoritatively, to set the checked wheels going again. But Tyr
flung up his head with an appalling howl.

"Open, open; let me in!"

It was a man's voice, and the door shook and rattled as a man's
strength beat against it. Sweyn could feel the planks quivering,
as on the instant his hand was upon the door, flinging it open, to
face the blank porch, and beyond only snow and sky, and firs
aslant in the wind.

He stood for a long minute with the open door in his hand. The