never, never! Why did we have to come here this Christmas? Why did
the sheep get the potato in its throat? I meant to give them all a
treat. And now Uncle and Aunt Magda would be furiously angry with me,
and perhaps Father and Mother would be too. I cried and sobbed as if
my heart would break.
How long I sat there I do not know, but it must have been for hours.
I heard them call me many times, but I kept still; the thought of
seeing any one was unbearable.
Little by little my crying stopped and I began to follow a new train
of thought. I would stay in this corner all my life—yes, and starve
to death—perhaps steal out at night and get a little food—but no one
should know that I lay in hiding here; and when many years later
they found me behind the hay-cutter, lying dead with a tear-stained
face—then horrid Great-Aunt would be sorry enough.
Suddenly I heard Aunt Magda’s voice right near me.
“Oh, my dear, blessed child! Are you lying here? We’ve been looking
everywhere for you.”
“Are you very angry about the sheep, Auntie?”
“Oh, far from it! You didn’t mean to do any harm. Great-Aunt is very
hasty, you know.”
“And Uncle?”
“Oh, Uncle will understand,” said Aunt Magda, comfortingly. “And now,
my jewel, don’t think of it any more.”
Oh, how I loved Aunt Magda! How unspeakably, unspeakably! The whole
afternoon I sat close beside her or followed her about. I would not
leave her for an instant.
* * * * *
At last the day came for us to go home, traveling this time by the
steamer.
Great-Aunt gave us a big package of fig-cakes and raisins and
almonds, and when we said good-bye, she patted us on the shoulder and
asked us to come again soon. So she wasn’t so bad, after all!
When the steamer reached our town, Karsten and I were the first on
the wharf. We leaped up the hill to our home in just about one bound,
and up the steps. We hadn’t time to shut the doors after us, but left
them standing open all the way to Mother’s room. There sat Mother in
an easy-chair, reaching out her arms to us.
“Oh, Mamma! Mamma! Mamma!” And Mother took us in her arms, pressing
us close to her breast.
“Oh, my dear, dear children!”
* * * * *
There is nothing in the world so delightful as to come home.
Transcriber’s Notes
pg 119 Changed: we were tired of plashing
to: we were tired of splashing