IN THE DOCTOR’S HOUSE AT BUCHBERG.
The kitchen-garden is the especial delight of the true German housewife;
that is, of one who lives in the country where such a luxury is
possible. The flower-garden is a source of pleasure to the whole family;
but the vegetable-garden is her own, so to speak; she cares for it
herself; she watches each little plant with her own eyes, and removes
each encroaching weed with her own hands. Now this year the cauliflowers
were of unusually fine promise, and they excited the hopes of their
owner that a wonderful harvest would before long reward her care; not a
trace of a noxious worm was as yet to be detected.
“Good evening,” said some one from the other side of the hedge; “your
vegetables are always the best and the most forward of any in the
neighborhood; they show the care you take of them.”
The doctor’s wife came nearer to the hedge, and over the low barrier
Heiri, the day-laborer, stretched his hand, stained and knotted with
work, to clasp that of his old friend and schoolmate. How often had he
been to her for counsel and aid since those school-days, and when had
that willing and helpful hand ever failed him?
“How are you all at home, Heiri?” she asked heartily. “Have you plenty
of work? Are your wife and children well?”
“Yes, yes, thank God!” replied Heiri, as he lifted his heavy tools from
his shoulder and set them on the ground. “There is work enough; I am
just taking these tools to be sharpened. I have to keep hard at it, for
the family is growing big.”
“The three little boys look finely; I saw them go by yesterday with
Elsli,” continued the doctor’s wife. “But Elsli herself looks quite too
pale and delicate. Do not forget how her mother died, Heiri. The little
girl ought not to have too much to do; she is not strong, and she is
growing too fast. Do take it in time, Heiri; you know by sad experience
how rapidly disease gains ground when it has once got hold of a young
girl.”
“Yes, yes, I can never forget that. It was terrible to see how quickly
Gritli sank,--and she so young, so young! Marget is a good wife and an
industrious woman; but nothing will ever make me forget my poor Gritli”;
and Heiri wiped away a few tears with his hard hand.
Tears were also in the eyes of the doctor’s wife, as she said, “Neither
can I ever forget her, nor how gladly she would have lived for you and
the children, nor how quickly it was all over. Elsli is the very image
of her mother, Heiri, and I cannot help fearing that she is working
beyond her strength.”
“She’s a poor, thin little creature, to be sure,” said Heiri; “and it
strikes me, now and then, that she is delicate; but usually she is so
quiet that I don’t take much notice of her. Now, the boy is much more
like his mother; he’s always busy about something, especially about
keeping things clean. He can’t abide dirt, any more than Gritli could,
and he is always at the little ones to make them come and be washed at
the spout. Of course the little boys won’t stand that, and they set up a
scream, and then out comes their mother, and there’s a grand row! I
scarcely ever come home at night that Marget doesn’t come complaining
of the boy for plaguing the younger children. She wants me to punish
him, but when the little fellow stands up before me, and looks straight
into my eyes with such a look of his mother about him, I cannot bring
myself to strike him. Then Marget is vexed and begins to scold, and I do
not like to vex her, for she works hard and means all right. I have
often thought that perhaps you, Mrs. Stein, would speak a word for me to
Marget about punishing the boy; for anything from you would have great
weight with her.”
“Certainly I will, with pleasure. But tell me about Elsli; is Marget
kind to her?”
“Well, this is how it is,”--and Heiri drew a little nearer the hedge and
spoke in a confidential tone--“the little girl is more like me, and
gives in easily and is not obstinate about having her own way, as her
poor mother was. She does what she is bid, and never answers back when
Marget scolds, nor ever complains, though she has to work from the time
she gets home from school till she goes to bed; always carrying the
baby, or doing something about the house.”
“But you must not let her do too much, Heiri,” said Mrs. Stein
seriously. “I am very anxious about her. Ask Marget to come over and see
me: tell her I have some clothes which my children have out-grown, and I
should like to give them to her if she will come for them.”
“Thank you; I will certainly send her. Good-night I hope you will have
good luck with the cauliflowers”; and, with another shake of his good
friend’s hand, Heiri went off to the smithy.
The doctor’s wife stood lost in thought for several minutes. She was
looking towards her vegetables, but she was thinking of neither beet nor
cauliflower, though her eyes were resting on the neat rows before her.
This talk with Heiri had brought the old days of her childhood forcibly
back to her memory. She saw the pretty Gritli with her big brown eyes,
as she used to sit weaving forget-me-nots into pretty wreaths with her
skilful fingers; always putting a few into her belt and into her hair.
Gritli was the child of poor parents, but she was always neatly dressed,
and, though her clothes were of the coarsest stuff, yet there was a
peculiar look of daintiness about her, which, with the bit of color in
flower or ribbon that was never wanting in her costume, gave the
impression that she had just been dressed by an artist, as a model for a
picture. Many criticised this daintiness and many laughed at it, but it
made no difference to Gritli; for indeed it was only the instinctive
expression of the girl’s natural longing for the beautiful.
At eighteen, Gritli married Heiri, a good-hearted fellow who had long
loved her. But after five years of married life she died, of a rapid
consumption; leaving two children, Stefan and Elsli, four and three
years old. It was not long before Heiri found that he needed help in the
care of these little ones, and, taking the advice of friends and
neighbors, he married Marget, who was recommended to him as specially
capable of looking after his house and children. She proved indeed a
good house-keeper; but for ornaments and flowers she had no taste, and
she did not see the use of being over particular about neatness either,
so that Heiri’s household soon lost the air of refinement which had been
noticeable during Gritli’s life.
Marget’s three children did not get by any means the nice care that
Fani and Elsli had received from their own mother, and Gritli’s children
retained an air of distinction that was ineffaceable, and that marked
them as quite different from the younger set.
The memories that passed almost like a vision before the eyes of the
doctor’s wife, as she stood apparently studying her kitchen-garden, were
rudely dispelled by a piercing scream that resounded from the house; and
presently an eight-year-old girl came running round the corner, pursued
by her older brother; a big lad, who held a huge volume under his left
arm, and had something tightly clutched in his right hand.
“Rikli! what a fearful noise! come here to me! what has happened now?”
The girl screamed louder and hid her face in the skirts of her mother’s
dress.
“Now, just look at the innocent cause of this ridiculous disturbance,
mother,” said Fred. “Only this pretty, dear little froggy, that I
caught, and was holding out for Rikli to admire. Just let me read you
this description, and you will see how exactly it agrees with Mr. Frog
himself. Look, mamma, look!” and Fred opened his hand and showed a small
green frog.
“Stand still, and be quiet, Rikli,” said her mother to the crying girl,
“and, Fred, why do you persist in showing the silly child these
creatures, when you know how much she is afraid of them?”
“She was the only person near,” answered Fred. “But do listen to this,
mamma.” Fred opened his book, and began to read:--
“‘The green or water frog, _esculenta_, is about three inches in length,
grass-green, with black spots. His eyes have a golden color, and the
toes of his hind legs are webbed. His voice, which is often heard on
warm summer nights, sounds _Brekekex!_ He passes the winters hidden in
the mud and slime. He feeds upon’--”
At this moment a carriage was heard approaching. “It is the lady with
the sick child,” said Mrs. Stein, putting Fred aside rather hastily, for
he tried to detain her. He followed her, crying out:--
“Do listen, mamma; you do not know what he eats. He eats--”
The carriage was at the door. Hans came from the stable, and Kathri, in
her best white apron, from the kitchen, to lift out the sick girl and
carry her into the house. Fred and Rikli stood back by the hedge, as
still as mice, watching the proceedings.
First, a lady alighted from the carriage, and beckoned to Kathri, who
came forward, lifted out the pale child, and carried her up the steps
into the house. The lady followed with Mrs. Stein.
“That girl is a great deal bigger than you are, if mother did say that
she was only eight or nine years old,” said Fred to Rikli. “She is more
nearly Emma’s age, and what do you suppose she would think to hear you
screaming as you did just now? I don’t think she’d like you for a
friend.”
“Well, at any rate, she wouldn’t always have centipedes and frogs and
spiders in her pockets, as you have, Fred,” retorted Rikli; and she was
about to add some farther excuse for her screams, when Fred opened his
hand to see how his frog was getting on, and lo! the little creature
made one big jump right towards Rikli’s face! With a piercing cry, the
child flew into the house, but was instantly stopped by Kathri, with:
“Hush! hush! When there is that sick little girl in there, how can you
make such a noise?”
“Where is aunty?” asked Rikli; a question that the maid answered before
it was fairly uttered, for it was asked hundreds of times in that
household every day.
“In the other room. The sick girl is in here, and you mustn’t go in,
your mother says. And as for screaming like a pig, you mustn’t do that
either, in a respectable house,” added Kathri, on her own account.
Rikli hastened into the room where her aunt was, to tell her about
Fred’s horrid frog, and how it had jumped almost into her very face. Her
aunt was listening to Oscar, the eldest brother, who was talking
earnestly.
“You see, aunty,” he was saying, “that if Feklitus does not object, we
can put the two verses together; then ours could go here, and the other
there, and both would be used. Won’t that do?”
“Yes, that will be very nice indeed,” said his aunt in a tone of
conviction; “that will remove all difficulties; and the verses are
really very suitable, as such verses ought to be.”
“You will help Emma with the embroidery, won’t you, aunty? You know she
will never finish the banner by herself. She is always up to so many
pranks, and she cannot keep at one thing half an hour at a time.”
His aunt promised her assistance, and he ran off, well pleased, to tell
his friends of their new ally. Rikli thought her chance had come now,
but before she could begin her story Emma rushed in, crying, almost out
of breath:--
“Aunty! aunty! They are all going to gather strawberries--a lot of boys
and girls--may I go too? Say ‘yes’ quick, for I can’t get at mamma and
they won’t wait.”
“Strawberries to-day, violets yesterday, and blueberries to-morrow;
always something or other; that is the way with you, Emma. Well, go, but
do not stay out too late.”
“I want to go too,” cried Rikli, and started after her sister.
But Emma, clearing the steps in two jumps, called back:--
“No, you can’t go into the woods; there are red snails there and beetles
and--”
But Rikli did not wait to hear more; she was reminded of the frog, and
turned back to tell her story, when she saw Fred coming in with his book
under his arm. He seated himself by his aunt and opened the book.
“How nice it is to find you, aunty,” he began, “Mamma couldn’t wait to
hear the end of this description; and it was a pity, for I had found
such a perfect specimen. But I’ll find another to-morrow to show you.”
“No! no!” cried Rikli. “Say ‘no,’ aunty; it will jump right into your
face, and it has yellow eyes like a dragon’s.”
Fred had doubled up his fist as if he had something in it, and now he
suddenly opened it into his sister’s face. She sprang back with a cry,
and away through the door.
“Now we can have a little peace,” said Fred, well pleased at the success
of his trick; and he began to read.
“‘The green or water-frog, _esculenta_’--”
At this moment the house-door was opened, and they heard footsteps and
voices in the passage-way.
“Come,” said his aunt, “let us look out at the little sick girl who is
going away; then we will come back to the frog.”
They went to the window and looked out. A sad expression came into the
good aunt’s face as she saw the little girl lifted into the carriage.
“How sick and pale she looks, poor little thing! or, rather, poor
sorrowful mother!” she said, as her eyes fell on the face of the lady
who was at this moment pressing Mrs. Stein’s hand, while tears were
running, unheeded, down her cheeks.
The carriage rolled away. Fred returned to his book; but he had no
chance to go on with the description of the frog, for his mother,
greatly excited over the sight of the suffering child and the anxious
mother, came to talk it over with her sister, with whom she consulted
about everything that took place in the family, so that the household
would have been as much at a loss without “aunty” as without father or
mother. Fred saw that this was not his opportunity; so, exacting a
promise from his aunt that she would give him a chance with his frog
just before bed-time, he took himself off.
Then Mrs. Stein told her sister all about her painful interview with
Mrs. Stanhope. The child, she said, was so pale and transparent-looking
that she seemed already to belong more to heaven than to earth; but the
mother would not believe it, and had eagerly explained, in a burst of
tears, that it was only the fatigue of the journey which made Nora look
so ill, and that she was sure that the mountain air would soon restore
her darling to health. Was she trying to deceive herself?
While Mrs. Stein was speaking, the sound of a horse’s hoofs was heard,
and she hurried out to meet her husband and to tell him of Mrs.
Stanhope’s arrival. The doctor hastened away on foot to pay a visit to
his new patient. Not until late in the evening did he return; long after
the children were safe in their beds. Fred, by the way, had persevered
till he had secured his aunt long enough to give her a thorough account
of the appearance of the “green or water-frog.” It had been no easy
task, for each of the children had some special need of her that
evening, and his mother, too; and even Kathri asked for “one word”; but
Fred was not to be cheated, and he came out triumphant at last.
The doctor sat down hungry at the supper-table, and not one word did he
speak to his expectant wife and sister, until he had satisfied his
appetite. He shook his head doubtfully, in answer to their questions
about Nora.
“There is nothing to build upon,” he said; “the little plant has no
strength. It is not a case of failing health, but of utter want of
vitality from the very beginning. If our mountain air can work a
miracle, we may see her restored; if not, there is no hope.”
His wife and “aunty” were grieved at this reply, though they had
expected nothing better; but they tried to take a more cheerful view.
“While there is life, there is hope,” they said, “and our mountain air
does certainly work wonders.”
“I should like to have Emma go to see the little girl, and try to amuse
her now and then,” said the doctor presently; “Emma has too many schemes
in her head; perhaps she will drop some of them if she gets interested
in this child, and I am sure it would be a good thing; for her projects
almost always end in some kind of mishap. Nora will be rather
astonished, probably, at some of her suggestions, but it will do no harm
to the poor child to have some new and interesting ideas introduced into
her restricted life, and there is no chance of her being enticed into
joining in Emma’s wild pranks. It will be good for both of them to be
together.”
Mrs. Stein was pleased at the idea of a friendship between the girls.
Nora’s gentleness and delicacy might have a softening influence on her
impulsive little daughter, while, on the other hand, Emma’s active,
happy spirits could not fail to attract Nora, and to draw her out of
herself.
Later in the evening, while the doctor was busy with his arrangements
for the next day’s work, his wife and her sister sat together, as usual,
over the great basket that stood always well supplied with mending and
sewing of various kinds. They talked over the experiences of the day,
the conduct of the children, and the general affairs of the household,
and took counsel together for the day to come. This was the only time in
the twenty-four hours that they could call their own, and they could
hardly have got along without it; for their lives were so closely
interwoven that they needed this interchange of thoughts to help each
other and themselves. Naturally, the children were first discussed, with
their varied joys and sorrows, wants and wishes; next, the doctor’s
patients, who came to the house from far and near; and last, the many
calls for sympathy and advice that reached their ears and their hearts
from all the country round about; for many were those who brought their
troubles of all kinds to this hospitable house, where they were always
sure of help and encouragement, of support in word and deed. So the two
sisters, on this, as on many another evening, had so many things of
interest to discuss and decide, that, under their busy hands, the heap
of unmended stockings in the work-basket melted away unobserved, while
many a neighborly plan and kindly conspiracy were hatched by their warm
hearts and busy heads; and it was very late when at last they separated
to their well earned rest.