The following day Jan of Ruffluck Croft stood waiting for hours on
the doorstep of his hut, with the little girl in his arms.
This, too, was a long wait. But now it was all so different from
the day before. He was standing there in such good company that he
could become neither weary nor disheartened. Nor could he begin to
tell how good it felt to be holding the warm little body pressed
close to his heart. It occurred to him that hitherto he had been
mighty sour and unpleasant, even to himself; but now all was bliss
and sweetness within him. He had never dreamed that one could be so
gladdened by just loving some one.
He had not stationed himself on the doorstep without a purpose, as
may be assumed. It was an important matter that he must try to
settle while standing there. He and Katrina had spent the whole
morning trying to choose a name for the child. They had been at it
for hours, without arriving at a decision. Finally Katrina had
said: "I don't see but that you'll have to take the child and go
stand on the stoop with her. Then you can ask the first female that
happens along what her name is, and the name she names we must give
to the girl, be it ugly or pretty."
Now the hut lay rather out of the way and it was seldom that any
one passed by their place; so Jan had to stand out there ever so
long, without seeing a soul. This was also a gray day, though no
rain fell. It was not windy and cold, however, but rather a bit
sultry. If Jan had not held the little girl in his arms he would
have lost heart.
"My dear Jan Anderson," he would have said to himself. "You must
remember that you live away down in the Ashdales, by Dove Lake,
where there isn't but one decent farmhouse and here and there a
poor fisherman's hut. Who'll you find hereabout with a name that's
pretty enough to give to your little girl?"
But since this was something which concerned his daughter he never
doubted that all would come right. He stood looking down toward the
lake, as if not caring to her how shut in from the whole countryside
it lay, in its rock-basin. He thought it might just happen that
some high-toned lady, with a grand name, would come rowing across
from Doveness, on the south shore of the lake. Because of the
little girl he felt almost sure this would come to pass.
The child slept the whole time; so for all of her he could have
stood there and waited as long as he liked. But the worrisome
person was Katrina! Every other minute she would ask him whether
any one had come along yet and if he thought it prudent to keep the
infant out in the damp air any longer.
Jan turned his eyes up toward Great Peak, rising high above the
little groves and garden-patches of the Ashdales, like a watch
tower atop some huge fortress, keeping all strangers at a distance.
Still it might be possible that some great lady, who had been up to
the Peak, to view the beautiful landscape had taken the wrong path
back and strayed in the direction of Ruffluck.
He quieted Katrina as well as he could. The child was safe enough,
he assured her. Now that he had stood out there so long he wanted
to wait another minute or so.
Not a soul hove in sight, but he was confident that if he just
stuck to it, the help would come. It could not be otherwise. It
would not have surprised him if a queen in a golden chariot had
come driving over mountains and through thickets, to bestow her
name upon his little girl.
More moments passed, and he knew that dusk would soon be falling.
Then he would not be let stand there longer. Katrina looked at the
clock, and again begged him to come inside.
"Just you be patient a second!" he said. "I think I see something
peeping out over west."
The sky had been overcast the whole day, but at that moment the
sun [Note: In Swedish the sun is feminine.] came bursting out from
behind the clouds, and darted a few rays down toward the child.
"I don't wonder at your wanting to have a peek at the li'l' lassie
before you go down," said Jan to the sun. "She's something worth
seeing!"
The sun came forth, clearer and clearer, and shed a rose-coloured
glow over both the child and the hut.
"Maybe you'd like to be godmother to 'er?" said Jan of Ruffluck.
To which the sun made no direct reply. She just beamed for a
moment, then drew her mist-cloak about her and disappeared.
Once again Katrina was heard from. "Was any one there?" asked she.
"I thought I heard you talking to somebody. You'd better come
inside now."
"Yes, now I'm coming," he answered, and stepped in. "Such a grand
old aristocrat just went by! But she was in so great a hurry I had
barely time to say 'go'day' to her, before she was gone."
"Goodness me! How provoking!" exclaimed Katrina. "And after we'd
waited so long, too! I suppose you didn't have a chance to ask what
her name was?"
"Oh, yes. Her name is Glory Goldie Sunnycastle--that much I got out
of her."
"_Glory Goldie Sunnycastle_! But won't that name be a bit too
dazzling?" was Katrina's only comment.
Jan of Ruffluck was positively astonished at himself for having hit
upon something so splendid as making the sun godmother to his
child. He had indeed become a changed man from the moment the
little girl was first laid in his arms!