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"Jorgenson residence," Solveig Jorgenson answered the ringing telephone. It still annoyed her that the church council thought it necessary to install this machine in her home to interrupt her routine with its incessant ringing.
"I have a long-distance call for you, overseas," the operator said. "Can you hold?"
"Of course I can," she replied.
"Hello, Solveig," the voice on the other end of the line said.
"Yes, this is Solveig." She did not recognize the voice, and yet she knew to whom it belonged.
"This is Sven, is my brother Erik there?"
"Sven? From America?" she questioned foolishly.
"Yes, is Erik there?" He seemed only slightly annoyed with her being so hesitant about putting her husband on the line.
"Just a minute, Sven." Trembling she called Erik to the phone. "Erik, it is your brother, Sven, from America."
"Sven?" Erik questioned, glancing at the clock as he spoke into the receiver. It would be early, only eight in the morning in Minnesota.
"Yes, I called as I need to ask a favor of you."
"A favor, what favor could I possibly do for you from so far away?"
"I have just returned from the hospital. I am dying, Erik."