_Thursday, March twenty-fourth_.
Just at that time a thing happened in Skåne which created a good deal of
discussion and even got into the newspapers but which many believed to
be a fable, because they had not been able to explain it.
It was about like this: A lady squirrel had been captured in the
hazelbrush that grew on the shores of Vomb Lake, and was carried to a
farmhouse close by. All the folks on the farm--both young and old--were
delighted with the pretty creature with the bushy tail, the wise,
inquisitive eyes, and the natty little feet. They intended to amuse
themselves all summer by watching its nimble movements; its ingenious
way of shelling nuts; and its droll play. They immediately put in order
an old squirrel cage with a little green house and a wire-cylinder
wheel. The little house, which had both doors and windows, the lady
squirrel was to use as a dining room and bedroom. For this reason they
placed therein a bed of leaves, a bowl of milk and some nuts. The
cylinder wheel, on the other hand, she was to use as a play-house, where
she could run and climb and swing round.
The people believed that they had arranged things very comfortably for
the lady squirrel, and they were astonished because she didn't seem to
be contented; but, instead, she sat there, downcast and moody, in a
corner of her room. Every now and again, she would let out a shrill,
agonised cry. She did not touch the food; and not once did she swing
round on the wheel. "It's probably because she's frightened," said the
farmer folk. "To-morrow, when she feels more at home, she will both eat
and play."
Meanwhile, the women folk on the farm were making preparations for a
feast; and just on that day when the lady squirrel had been captured,
they were busy with an elaborate bake. They had had bad luck with
something: either the dough wouldn't rise, or else they had been
dilatory, for they were obliged to work long after dark.
Naturally there was a great deal of excitement and bustle in the
kitchen, and probably no one there took time to think about the
squirrel, or to wonder how she was getting on. But there was an old
grandma in the house who was too aged to take a hand in the baking; this
she herself understood, but just the same she did not relish the idea of
being left out of the game. She felt rather downhearted; and for this
reason she did not go to bed but seated herself by the sitting-room
window and looked out.
They had opened the kitchen door on account of the heat; and through it
a clear ray of light streamed out on the yard; and it became so well
lighted out there that the old woman could see all the cracks and holes
in the plastering on the wall opposite. She also saw the squirrel cage
which hung just where the light fell clearest. And she noticed how the
squirrel ran from her room to the wheel, and from the wheel to her room,
all night long, without stopping an instant. She thought it was a
strange sort of unrest that had come over the animal; but she believed,
of course, that the strong light kept her awake.
Between the cow-house and the stable there was a broad, handsome
carriage-gate; this too came within the light-radius. As the night wore
on, the old grandma saw a tiny creature, no bigger than a hand's
breadth, cautiously steal his way through the gate. He was dressed in
leather breeches and wooden shoes like any other working man. The old
grandma knew at once that it was the elf, and she was not the least bit
frightened. She had always heard that the elf kept himself somewhere
about the place, although she had never seen him before; and an elf, to
be sure, brought good luck wherever he appeared.
As soon as the elf came into the stone-paved yard, he ran right up to
the squirrel cage. And since it hung so high that he could not reach it,
he went over to the store-house after a rod; placed it against the cage,
and swung himself up--in the same way that a sailor climbs a rope. When
he had reached the cage, he shook the door of the little green house as
if he wanted to open it; but the old grandma didn't move; for she knew
that the children had put a padlock on the door, as they feared that the
boys on the neighbouring farms would try to steal the squirrel. The old
woman saw that when the boy could not get the door open, the lady
squirrel came out to the wire wheel. There they held a long conference
together. And when the boy had listened to all that the imprisoned
animal had to say to him, he slid down the rod to the ground, and ran
out through the carriage-gate.
The old woman didn't expect to see anything more of the elf that night,
nevertheless, she remained at the window. After a few moments had gone
by, he returned. He was in such a hurry that it seemed to her as though
his feet hardly touched the ground; and he rushed right up to the
squirrel cage. The old woman, with her far-sighted eyes, saw him
distinctly; and she also saw that he carried something in his hands; but
what it was she couldn't imagine. The thing he carried in his left hand
he laid down on the pavement; but that which he held in his right hand
he took with him to the cage. He kicked so hard with his wooden shoes on
the little window that the glass was broken. He poked in the thing which
he held in his hand to the lady squirrel. Then he slid down again, and
took up that which he had laid upon the ground, and climbed up to the
cage with that also. The next instant he ran off again with such haste
that the old woman could hardly follow him with her eyes.
But now it was the old grandma who could no longer sit still in the
cottage; but who, very slowly, went out to the back yard and stationed
herself in the shadow of the pump to await the elf's return. And there
was one other who had also seen him and had become curious. This was the
house cat. He crept along slyly and stopped close to the wall, just two
steps away from the stream of light. They both stood and waited, long
and patiently, on that chilly March night, and the old woman was just
beginning to think about going in again, when she heard a clatter on the
pavement, and saw that the little mite of an elf came trotting along
once more, carrying a burden in each hand, as he had done before. That
which he bore squealed and squirmed. And now a light dawned on the old
grandma. She understood that the elf had hurried down to the hazel-grove
and brought back the lady squirrel's babies; and that he was carrying
them to her so they shouldn't starve to death.
The old grandma stood very still, so as not to disturb them; and it did
not look as if the elf had noticed her. He was just going to lay one of
the babies on the ground so that he could swing himself up to the cage
with the other one--when he saw the house cat's green eyes glisten close
beside him. He stood there, bewildered, with a young one in each hand.
He turned around and looked in all directions; then he became aware of
the old grandma's presence. Then he did not hesitate long; but walked
forward, stretched his arms as high as he could reach, for her to take
one of the baby squirrels.
The old grandma did not wish to prove herself unworthy of the
confidence, so she bent down and took the baby squirrel, and stood there
and held it until the boy had swung himself up to the cage with the
other one. Then he came back for the one he had entrusted to her care.
The next morning, when the farm folk had gathered together for
breakfast, it was impossible for the old woman to refrain from telling
them of what she had seen the night before. They all laughed at her, of
course, and said that she had been only dreaming. There were no baby
squirrels this early in the year.
But she was sure of her ground, and begged them to take a look into the
squirrel cage and this they did. And there lay on the bed of leaves,
four tiny half-naked, half blind baby squirrels, who were at least a
couple of days old.
When the farmer himself saw the young ones, he said: "Be it as it may
with this; but one thing is certain, we, on this farm, have behaved in
such a manner that we are shamed before both animals and human beings."
And, thereupon, he took the mother squirrel and all her young ones from
the cage, and laid them in the old grandma's lap. "Go thou out to the
hazel-grove with them," said he, "and let them have their freedom back
again!"
It was this event that was so much talked about, and which even got into
the newspapers, but which the majority would not credit because they
were not able to explain how anything like that could have happened.