pet' als
in' mates
scrubbed
fra' grant
The children ran into the house.
"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
window!"
The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
dirty it is out in the yard!"
Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
so untidy here."
She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
every spot was white.
It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
ever before, he thought.
"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
greeting had been heard in here.
"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
for many years.
The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
they both smiled.
"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
flowers.
"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
said the girl.
"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
fingers.
Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
sounded.
In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
blossom.
"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvärd.
Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
Co.
* * * * *
Memory Gem:
I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
would grow.
_Abraham Lincoln._
* * * * *
_16_
lux'u ry
med'i cine
a bun'dant
wil'der ness