Gritli's Children

by Johanna Spyri

  CHAPTER V.

  ON OAK-RIDGE.

  When Dr. Stein received from his medical brother on the Rhine a letter,asking him to look out for a suitable summer lodging for Mrs. Stanhopeand her little invalid daughter, he naturally turned the matter over tohis wife, who of course took her sister into consultation. The firstthing that suggested itself was the unused second story of Mr. Bickel'sgreat house. The doctor's wife immediately went to make inquiries, butshe met with no encouragement. Mrs. Bickel declared that she could notspare any rooms; in the first place, she needed them herself; and thenshe wondered how any one could think of such a thing as that she shouldlet strangers into her beautifully furnished apartments, which no onehad ever yet occupied. Mrs. Stein hastened to apologize; she only askedfor a friend, and meant no harm by asking; but it was so difficult tofind lodgings in Buchberg, and this was a case of great need. Mrs.Bickel could not get over it, however, and long afterwards from time totime she would break out to her husband, "Do you suppose that doctor'swife thought we built this house to let?" and Mr. Bickel, equallyindignant, would add, "And to people that we know nothing whateverabout; nor even whether they would pay their rent!"

  Mrs. Stein, disappointed in her first trial, bethought herself, as sheturned away from the Bickel mansion, of a certain new house that hadjust been built on Oak-ridge by a man who occupied only the lowerfloor; the upper story standing empty, waiting for the owner's son, whowas to be married in the autumn. There was a wonderfully beautiful viewfrom the windows out and far away over the green hills, with abackground of snow-covered mountains, and westward down the woodedvalley, through which rushed the waters of a mountain stream. Mrs. Steinimmediately turned her steps towards the Oak-ridge; and in a fewmoments' interview all was happily arranged, to the satisfaction of bothparties; and in a few days, with her assistance, the rooms were nicelyfurnished and stood ready for the reception of the lodgers.

  Mrs. Stanhope and her daughter had now been settled in these lodgingsseveral days, and no one but the doctor and his wife had yet visitedthem; for Nora had been very much fatigued by the journey and could seeno one. But to-day the doctor had promised that Emma should come to seeher, and Nora was seated at the window that looked towards the west, herfavorite view; for there she could see the foaming brook as it pouredfrom the mountain-side down through the valley; and there too thesunset-clouds were painted each evening by the setting sun, and madeglorious pictures that delighted her sick and weary eyes.

  Presently Nora saw a young girl coming up the hill-side towards thehouse. Could it be Emma? Nora saw with amazement how she came springingup the steep path without once pausing to take breath. It wasinconceivable! She would surely fall from sheer exhaustion! But the nextmoment there was a knock at the door, and in came Emma with bright redcheeks, and in her hand a bunch of red and blue wild-flowers, which sheheld out to the pale little invalid, displaying by the gesture a brown,well-rounded arm. Mrs. Stanhope greeted her kindly and gave her a seatnear Nora, who took the flowers with grateful thanks. No two girls couldhave offered a greater contrast to each other than these two, as theysat side by side. Emma, glowing, active, hearty, her every movementspeaking of healthy energy; and Nora, pale, languid, like a broken lily,that would be wafted away by the next passing breeze. Mrs. Stanhopelooked at them for a few moments, and then, as the tears rose to hereyes, she hastened away into the other room.

  "Where did you find those beautiful flowers?" asked Nora.

  "In the meadow, as I came along; it is full of them; red and whitemarguerites and forget-me-nots, such a quantity! you ought to see them!As soon as you are well enough, we will go and pick forget-me-nots, andlater will come strawberries and then bilberries."

  Nora shook her head. "I should not enjoy it."

  Emma did not know what to make of this, for she could think of nothingmore delightful, but immediately she bethought herself.

  "Oh, of course you don't know how pleasant it is, because you don't havesuch flowers where you live, and strawberries don't grow wild there; butyou will enjoy going out to pick them; you can't help it, it seems as ifyou could never pick enough; it's such fun that you hate to have it timeto go home."

  "Yes, I always think it must be beautiful to be out-of-doors," said Norathoughtfully. "But when I go it tires me terribly, and there's not abit of fun when I'm all tired out."

  Emma looked at her companion as puzzled as if she were speaking in aforeign tongue. "Tired" was a word unknown to Emma's vocabulary. Hergreatest sorrow when evening came, was that the day was done and shemust go to bed. No day was long enough to tire her nimble feet, and heronly regret was that she ever had to stop walking and running andclimbing. She stared at Nora a moment, not knowing what to say, and thenthe very face at which she was gazing put a thought into her head, andshe said cheerfully:--

  "I see now what you mean, but that is only because you are not strongand well; pretty soon you will be well, and then you will feel verydifferently; you will be like me, and I am never tired."

  Nora shook her head. "I shall never be like you. I was always so,always tired. I can't bear even to think about running; the very thoughttires me. I shall never enjoy it."

  Emma began to feel very much worried.

  "Oh, but there must be something that you enjoy doing; you must havesomething to think about at night that you are going to do the next day;some plan, some game, some fun or other! Oh, my father will make youwell and strong, and you must believe that he will, or else you won't behappy and will grow worse and worse."

  "I do have something that I love to think about and to look forward to.When I see other children jumping and running easily, as you did whenyou came up the hill just now, I think how much more beautiful it is inheaven than it is here; and how I shall not be sick or tired there, butcan run about as much as I please among the beautiful flowers that growthere; roses and lilies that never fade. Sha'n't you be glad to go toheaven?"

  Emma was nonplussed. She knew that it was beautiful in heaven, to besure; but she did not want to go there now; the earth too was beautifuland she was happy enough here; she had not half exhausted the pleasuresand delights of her life. Nora seemed waiting for an answer, and Emmastammered out:--

  "I never thought about it at all!"

  Nora looked disappointed.

  "Oh! that is too bad that we cannot talk about heaven. There is no onebut Clarissa whom I can speak to about it, and she did not come with us;I don't mention it to mamma, because she begins to cry directly. Ithought when you came you would like it; I'm sorry you don't."

  Emma did not answer. She was trying to think of something which Norawould like to talk about instead of heaven. A gleam of hope came to her.

  "I know one thing you will enjoy," she said; "very soon they will beginto cut the grass on the meadow, and they will pile it into beautifulsoft hay-cocks, and we will go and lie down upon them all day long; itcannot tire you to lie in the hay, and it's perfectly lovely."

  But Nora only shook her head again, and said nothing; she had no beliefin the power of hay to make her well again, and the prospect was not tobe compared to the pleasures of a heavenly garden. Emma thought it timefor her to say good-bye. Mrs. Stanhope came in, and begged her to stay awhile longer; her mother knew where she was, and there was no reason forher hurrying away. Nora, however, did not second her mother's efforts,and Emma was anxious to go. It was getting late, she said, confusedly.She had better be at home; and she hastily took her leave. As soon asshe stood outside the house, she made one big spring, and never stoppedrunning, downhill and then up, till she stood on her own door-step; andthen she suddenly reflected that she was not expected to come back sosoon, and that her brothers were sure to make some unpleasant remarks onher quick return; so she tried to think what she could do with herselffor a while. "I'll find aunty," was her speedy decision, "and I'll tellher all about my visit, and how different it was from what I expected,and how I had to come away because I couldn't think of anything more tosay to Nora. Aunty'll understand, and
she won't let the boys laugh atme."

  She ran into the house, and at her aunt's door she ran plump into Fred,who was coming out.

  "Oh, ho! what happened over there between you and your new friend, Emma?Something has gone wrong, or you wouldn't be at home so soon!" criedFred, far too cleverly.

  Emma did not answer, but went into the room, where her aunt was alone,sewing at her work-table. Emma sat down as close as she could to her, toshow that she was in possession, and no one else could have aunty now.

  In the kitchen, Marget was standing; Mrs. Stein offered her a chair andgave her a cup of coffee steaming hot, saying:--

  "Do take a moment to rest, Marget; I've been for some time wanting achance to talk with you. I sent for you not only to give you theclothes, but to talk with you a little about Elsli. I am worried aboutthat child; she looks so pale and thin. Hanseli is far too heavy for herto carry, and then the other two boys are always hanging about her andpulling her down. She will soon break down at this rate; you must seefor yourself how miserably she looks, and you ought not to let her be sooverworked."

  "Oh, yes, Mrs. Stein, it's very easy to say that," interrupted Marget;"but what can people like us do? I have all I can do from morning tillnight to get the children clothed and fed; and how could I do it if Ihad to have all the little crybabies round me all the time? There'snobody but Elsli to help me with them. That big Fani might help her tobe sure, but he always forgets; he means well enough, but he'sthoughtless. Elsli does have to work pretty hard, I know; but she may aswell get used to it, for it'll only be harder by and by."

  "But, Marget," resumed Mrs. Stein, "I tell you Elsli will break downand be sick, and then where will you be?"

  "Where shall I be? God only knows. Such as us can't afford to stop andthink what's going to happen; it's all we can do to get along to-day,without thinking about to-morrow. All I know is, I can't spare Elslifrom the children, and the older she grows the harder it will be forher; for she'll have to go into the factory as soon as she can earnwages, and that's harder work than looking after the children. Fani willgo first Old Cousin Fekli has his eye on him for Easter, and has said tome two or three times that he wanted the boy as soon as possible. CousinFekli wouldn't want him if he didn't think he could make something outof him; he doesn't forget to look out for his own profits."

  "Are you really related to Mr. Bickel?"

  "To be sure I am; we had the same great-grandfathers, so we are secondcousins. He doesn't care to acknowledge us, but when he passes me, Ialways say distinctly, 'Good-day, cousin'; and I don't mind if he doeslook rather askance as if he didn't know who I was--that's his look-out.I'm glad he knows Fani and has his eye on him; if the boy can earn atrifle by working for him, it will be something to help keep the potboiling."

  Mrs. Stein now brought the bag which Elsli had left behind, which shehad filled with clothing for Marget's children.

  "Do try to remember about Elsli," she said. "I will do all I can to helpyou, if you will only spare the child as much as you can."

  "Well, as much as I can, yes," said the woman. "But you must understandthat I have my work to do, and the boys must be kept from under my feetwhile I am at work, and there's no one but Elsli to see to them. We areall well now; and yet I have to use both hands to keep things going, andfeed all these mouths every day. How can I make things easier? Ifsickness comes, it will be time enough then to change our ways. It comeshardest on me, after all. No one knows what poverty is but those thathave been through it; but I can't help thinking sometimes that the LordGod loves some of his children better than he does others."

  "Try not to think that, Marget," said the doctor's wife in her kindesttones, for the hard lot of the poor was a sad trial to her tender heart."There are many sufferings besides poverty, and some which are muchharder to bear. Our Father in heaven knows why he sends them to us.Still, I know how hard poverty is, and it is a great grief to me that Icannot help the poor as I should like to."

  Marget took up the bag and went away. Mrs. Stein went back into thesitting-room with a heavy heart; for she was fully convinced thatElsli's fate was to succumb under the heavy load that poverty presseddown upon her delicate frame; and, sighing deeply, she sat down by hersister's side, intending to lay the case before her, and see whatimpression Marget's words would make upon her; for aunty had always acheerful word to say and she took a bright view of possibilities. But,before Emma could get through her confidences and give her mother achance to speak, Kathri put her head into the room with:--

  "Here's another woman wants you; will you come out into the kitchenagain?"

  "Another? who is it now?" asked her mistress in a weary tone.

  "Oh, as if I could pronounce or remember such an outlandish name!"

  "It can't be Mrs. Stanhope that you've left standing out in thekitchen!" asked aunty, anxiously.

  "Yes, that's it," said Kathri, adding impatiently: "If she'd only callherself hop-stand or hop-pole or something sensible, I could rememberit; but to twist it upside down so, it's just nonsense."

  However, Kathri thought she should never make a mistake in that nameagain; for the picture of a hop-pole standing upside down would alwayscome up when she thought of it.

  Mrs. Stein hastened out and asked her visitor to come into the parlor.Mrs. Stanhope had come to inquire if it would be possible to find achild to come between school-hours, twice a day, to do errands and smallhousehold chores, such as the maid-servant could not find time for.

  In a moment Elsli's pale face came up before Mrs. Stein's mind's eye,and she thought how much better off the girl would be going on errandsfor Mrs. Stanhope than carrying her big little brother about in herarms. And she thought that if Marget could be sure of a little readymoney every day, she would manage to let Elsli go.

  "I know of a very neat, respectable young girl, who would please you, Iam sure," she said; "only I am not quite sure whether her mother willlet her go, because she needs the child so much at home."

  "Promise her good pay," said Mrs. Stanhope, eagerly. "I will give themother whatever she asks, if she will let me have the girl."

  Mrs. Stein was so delighted with such a prospect for Elsli that shestarted out immediately to see what Marget would say to it, accompanyingMrs. Stanhope for some distance on her way home, and then turning off onthe lane that led to Heiri's cottage. Marget was alone, at the wash-tub.It did not take much persuasion to obtain her consent, for of course themoney was a great inducement.

  "It will not be for long," she said, "and the children must manage toget along without Elsli." So it was settled that Elsli should go thenext day, at eleven o'clock, to Mrs. Stanhope's, to begin her newduties.

  Late that evening, when the two sisters sat down at the work-tabletogether, after the children were in bed, aunty repeated Emma'sconfidences to her mother; how the visit to the sick girl had been acomplete failure, for Emma was sure that Nora did not care to have hercome again, any more than she herself cared to go; for she couldn'tthink of anything to say, and Nora didn't want to talk either, and theydidn't like the same things at all.

  Mrs. Stein was surprised and disappointed. Emma's stock of conversationhad never been known to give out before, and her mother had beenconfident that her merry talk would be a real pleasure to the sickchild, and help to pass happily many a tedious hour of her long day;and, on the other hand, she relied much on the benefit which her rompinglittle girl would receive from the refined and gentle Nora. She saw,however, that there was nothing to be done about it, and that she couldonly trust to time, which often works wonders when things seem hopeless.

  "By and by, perhaps, they will come together. Children often do, justwhen you least expect it," she said.

  Her sister shook her head. "Emma and Nora were not made for each other,any more than fire and water," she said; and then they quitted thesubject, and talked about Elsli's prospects, and rejoiced at the thoughtthat the days of servitude to her burdensome little brothers were over,at least for the present.