At the door he
halted.
"Here we is, sir," he announced. "Step right in. They'll be wonderful
glad to see you, sir."
Grenfell entered. Within was a room perhaps twelve by fourteen feet in
size. A single small window of pieces of glass patched together was
designed to admit light and at the same time to exclude God's good
fresh air. The floor was of earth, partially paved with small round
stones. Built against the walls were six berths, fashioned after the
model of ship's berths, three lower and three upper ones. A broken old
stove, with its pipe extending through the roof into a mud protection
rising upon the peak outside in lieu of a chimney, made a smoky
attempt to heat the place. The lower berths and floor served as seats.
There was no furniture.
The walls of the hut were damp. The atmosphere was dank and
unwholesome and heavy with the ill-smelling odor of stale seal oil and
fish. The place was dirty and as unsanitary and unhealthful as any
human habitation could well be.
Six ragged, half-starved little children huddled timidly into a corner
upon the entrance of the visitor from the ship and gazed at the Doctor
with wide-open frightened eyes.
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