DITTE'S FIRST STEP
Strange how often one bears the child while another cares for it.
For old Maren it was not easy to be a mother again, much as her
heart was in it. The girl herself had got over all difficulties, and
was right away in service in another county; and here was the babe
left behind screaming.
Maren attended to it as well as she could, procured good milk and
gave it soaked bread and sugar, and did all she could to make up for
its mother.
Her daughter she could not make out at all. Soerine rarely came home,
and preferably in the evening when no one could see her; the child
she appeared not to care for at all. She had grown strong and erect,
not in the least like the slender, freckled girl who could stand
next to nothing. Her blood had thickened and her manners were
decided; though that, of course, has happened before,--an ailing
woman transformed by having a child, as one might say, released from
witchcraft.
Ditte herself did not seem to miss a mother's tender care: she grew
well in spite of the artificial food, and soon became so big that
she could keep wooden shoes on her small feet, and, with the help
of old Soeren's hand, walk on the downs. And then she was well looked
after.
However, at times things would go badly. For Maren had quite enough
of her own work to do, which could not be neglected, and the little
one was everywhere. And difficult it was suddenly to throw up what
one had in hand--letting the milk boil over and the porridge
burn--for the sake of running after the little one. Maren took a
pride in her housework and found it hard at times to choose between
the two. Then, God preserve her: the little one had to take her
chance.
Ditte took it as it came and could be thankful that she was with her
grandparents. She was an inquisitive little being, eager to meddle
with everything; and a miracle it was that the firewood did not fall
down. Hundreds of times in the day did she get into scrapes,
heedless and thoughtless as she was. She would rush out, and lucky
it was if there was anything to step on, otherwise she would have
fallen down. Her little head was full of bruises, and she could
never learn to look after herself in spite of all the knocks she
got. It was too bad to be whipped into the bargain! When the hurt
was very bad, Grandfather had to blow it, or Granny put the cold
blade of the bread-knife on the bruise to make it well again.
"Better now," said she, turning a smiling face towards her granny;
the tears still hanging on the long lashes, and her cheeks
gradually becoming roughened by them.
"Yes, dear," answered Maren. "But, Girlie must take care."
This was her name in those days, and a real little girlie she was,
square and funny. It was impossible to be angry with her, although
at times she could make it somewhat difficult for the old ones. Her
little head would not accept the fact that there were things one was
not allowed to do; immediately she got an idea, her small hands
acted upon it. "She's no forethought," said Soeren significantly,
"she's a woman. Wonder if a little rap over the fingers after all
wouldn't----"
But Maren ignored this. Took the child inside with her and
explained, perhaps for the hundredth time, that Girlie must not do
so. And one day she had a narrow escape. Ditte had been up to
mischief as usual in her careless way. But when she had finished,
she offered her little pouting mouth to the two old ones: "Kiss me
then--and say 'beg pardon'," said she.
And who could resist her?
"Now, perhaps, you'll say that she can't be taught what's right and
wrong?" said Maren.
Soeren laughed: "Ay, she first does the thing, and waits till after
to think if it's right or wrong. She'll be a true woman, right
enough."
At one time Ditte got into the habit of pulling down and breaking
things. She always had her little snub nose into everything, and
being too small to see what was on the table, she pulled it down
instead. Soeren had to get a drill and learn to mend earthenware to
make up for the worst of her depredations. A great many things fell
over Ditte without alarming her in the least.
"She'll neither break nor bend--she's a woman all over," said Soeren,
inwardly rather proud of her power of endurance. But Maren had to be
ever on the watch, and was in daily fear for the things and the
child herself.
One day Ditte spilled a basin of hot milk over herself and was badly
scalded; that cured her of inquisitiveness. Maren put her to bed and
treated her burns with egg-oil and slices of new potato; and it was
some time before Ditte was herself again. But when she was again
about, there was not so much as a scar to be seen. This accident
made Maren famous as a curer of burns and people sought her help for
their injuries. "You're a wise one," said they, and gave her bacon
or fish by way of thanks. "But 'tis not to be wondered at, after
all."
The allusion to the fact that her mother had been a "wise woman" did
not please Maren at all. But the bacon and the herrings came to an
empty cupboard, and--as Soeren said: "Beggars cannot be choosers and
must swallow their pride with their food."
Ditte shot up like a young plant, day by day putting forth new
leaves. She was no sooner in the midst of one difficult situation,
and her troubled grandparents, putting their heads together, had
decided to take strong measures, than she was out of it again and
into something else. It was just like sailing over a flat
bottom--thought Soeren--passing away under one and making room for
something new. The old ones could not help wondering if they
themselves and their children had ever been like this. They had
never thought of it before, having had little time to spend on their
offspring beyond what was strictly necessary; the one had quite
enough to do in procuring food and the other in keeping the home
together. But now they could not _help_ thinking; however much they
had to do, and they marveled much over many things.
"'Tis strange how a bit of a child can open a body's eyes, for all
one's old. Ay, there's a lot to learn," said Maren.
"Stupid," said Soeren. From his tone it could be gathered that he
himself had been thinking the same.
Ditte was indeed full of character. Little as she had had to
inherit, she nevertheless was richly endowed; her first smile
brought joy; her feeble tears, sorrow. A gift she was, born out of
emptiness, thrown up on the beach for the wornout old couple. No one
had done anything to deserve her,--on the contrary, all had done
their utmost to put her out of existence. Notwithstanding, there she
lay one day with blinking eyes, blue and innocent as the skies of
heaven. Anxiety she brought from the very beginning, many footsteps
had trodden round her cradle, and questioning thoughts surrounded
her sleep. It was even more exciting when she began to take notice;
when only a week old she knew their faces, and at three she laughed
to Soeren. He was quite foolish that day and in the evening had to go
down to the tap-room to tell them all about it. Had any one ever
known such a child? She could laugh already! And when she first
began to understand play, it was difficult to tear oneself
away--particularly for Soeren. Every other moment he had to go in and
caress her with his crooked fingers. Nothing was so delightful as to
have the room filled with her gurgling, and Maren had to chase him
away from the cradle, at least twenty times a day. And when she took
her first toddling steps!--that little helpless, illegitimate child
who had come defiantly into existence, and who, in return for life
brightened the days of the two old wornout people. It had become
pleasant once more to wake in the morning to a new day: life was
worth living again.
Her stumbling, slow walk was in itself a pleasure; and the
contemplative gravity with which she crossed the doorstep, both
hands full, trotted down the road--straight on as if there was
nothing behind her, and with drooping head--was altogether
irresistible. Then Maren would slink out round the corner and beckon
to Soeren to make haste and come, and Soeren would throw down his ax
and come racing over the grass of the downs with his tongue between
his lips. "Heaven only knows what she is up to now," said he, and
the two crept after her down the road. When she had wandered a
little distance, in deep thought, she would suddenly realize her
loneliness, and begin to howl, a picture of misery, left alone and
forsaken. Then the two old people would appear on the scene, and she
would throw herself into their arms overjoyed at finding them again.
Then quite suddenly she got over it--the idea that things were gone
forever if she lost sight of them for a moment. She began to look
out and up into people's faces: hitherto, she had only seen the feet
of those who came within her horizon. One day she actually went off
by herself, having caught sight of the houses down in the hamlet.
They had to look after her more seriously now that the outside world
had tempted her.
"We're not enough for her, seems like," said Soeren despondently,
"got a fancy for the unknown already."
It was the first time she had turned away from them, and Soeren
recognized in that something of what he had experienced before, and
for a moment a feeling of loneliness came over him. But Maren, wise
as she had grown since the coming of the little one, again found a
way. She threw her kerchief over her head and went down to the
hamlet with Ditte, to let her play with other children.