Ditte: Girl Alive! Part 15

"Ay, you're not to be feared," said old Maren. "But it seems like Sorine might be kinder to her."

"I think it's better now--and the little ones are fond of her. She's quite a little mother to them."

Yes, there were the children! Ditte's heart warmed at the thought of them. They had gained her affection in their own peculiar way; by adding burdens to her little life they had wound themselves round her heart.

"How's Povl?" asked she, when they had driven over the big hill, and Granny's hut was out of sight.

"Well, you know, he's always crying when you're not at home," said the father quietly.

Ditte knew this. He was cutting his teeth just now, and needed nursing, his cheeks were red with fever, and his mouth hot and swollen. He would hang on to his mother's skirt, only to be brushed impatiently aside, and would fall and hurt himself. Who then was there to take him on their knee and comfort him? It was like an accusation to Ditte's big heart; she was sorry she had deserted him, and longed to have him in her arms again. It hurt her back to carry him--yes, and the schoolmaster scolded her for stooping. "It's your own fault," the mother would say; "stop dragging that big child about! He can walk if he likes, he can." But when he was in pain and cried, Ditte knew all too well from her own experience the child's need of being held against a beating heart. She still had that longing herself, though a mother's care had never been offered her.

Sorine was cross when Lars Peter returned with Ditte, and ignored her for several days. But at last curiosity got the upper hand.

"How's the old woman--is she worse?" asked she.

Ditte, who thought her mother asked out of sympathy, gave full details of the miserable condition that Granny was in. "She's always in bed, and only gets food when any one takes it to her."

"Then she can't last much longer," thought the mother.

At this Ditte began to cry. Then her mother scolded her:

"Stupid girl, there's nothing to cry for. Old folks can't live on forever, being a burden to others. And when Granny dies we'll get a new dwelling-house."

"No, 'cause Granny says, what comes from the house is to be divided equally. And the rest----" Ditte broke off suddenly.

"What rest?" Sorine bent forward with distended nostrils.

But Ditte closed her lips firmly. Granny had strictly forbidden her to mention the subject--and here she had almost let it out.

"Stupid girl! don't you suppose I know you're thinking of the two hundred crowns that was paid for you? What's to be done with it?"

Ditte looked with suspicion at her mother. "I'm to have it," she whispered.

"Then the old woman should let us keep it for you, instead of hanging on to it herself," said Sorine.

Ditte was terrified. That was exactly what Granny was afraid of, that Sorine should get hold of it. "Granny has hidden it safely,"

said she.

"Oh, has she, and where?--in the eiderdown of course!"

"No!" Ditte a.s.sured her, shaking her head vehemently. But any one could see that was where it was hidden.

"Oh, that's lucky, for that eiderdown I'm going to fetch some day.

That you can tell Granny, with my love, next time you see her. Each of my sisters when they married was given an eiderdown, and I claim mine too."

"Granny only has one eiderdown!" Ditte protested--perhaps for the twentieth time.

"Then she'll just have to take one of her many under-quilts. She lies propped up nearly to the ceiling, with all those bedclothes."

Yes, Granny's bed was soft, Ditte knew that better than any one else. Granny's bedclothes were heavy, and yet warmer than anything else in the whole world, and there was a straw mat against the wall.

It had been so cosy and comfortable sleeping with Granny.

Ditte was small for her age, all the hards.h.i.+ps she had endured had stunted her growth. But her mind was above the average; she was thoughtful by nature, and her life had taught her not to s.h.i.+rk, but to take up her burden. She had none of the carelessness of childhood, but was full of forethought and troubles. She _had_ to worry--for her little sisters and brothers the few days she was with Granny, and for Granny all the time she was not with her.

As a punishment, for having prolonged her visit to Granny without permission, Sorine for a long time refused to let her go again. Then Ditte went about thinking of the old woman, worrying herself into a morbid self-reproach; most of all at night, when she could not sleep for cold, would her sorrows overwhelm her, and she would bury her head in the eiderdown, so that her mother should not hear her sobs.

She would remember all the sweet ways of the old woman, and bitterly repent the tricks and mischief she had played upon her. This was her punishment; she had repaid Granny badly for all her care, and now she was alone and forsaken. She had never been really good to the old woman; she would willingly be so now--but it was too late! There were hundreds of ways of making Granny happy, and Ditte knew them all, but she had been a horrid, lazy girl. If she could only go back now, she certainly would see that Granny always had a lump of sugar for her second cup of coffee--instead of stealing it herself. And she would remember every evening to heat the stone, and put it at the foot of the bed, so Granny's feet should not be cold. "You've forgotten the stone again," said Granny almost every night, "my feet are like ice. And what are yours like? Why, they're quite cold, child." Then Granny would rub the child's feet until they were warm; but nothing was done to her own--it was all so hopeless to think of it now.

She thought, if she only promised to be better in the future, something must happen to take her back to Granny again. But nothing did happen! And one day she could stand it no longer, and set off running over the fields. Sorine wanted her brought home at once; but Lars Peter took it more calmly.

"Just wait a few days," said he, "'tis a long time since she's seen the old woman." And he arranged his round so that Ditte could spend a few days with her grandmother.

"Bring back the eiderdown with you," said Sorine. "It's cold now, and it'll be useful for the children."

"We'll see about it," answered Lars Peter. When she got a thing into her head, she would nag on and on about it, so that she would have driven most people mad. But Lars Peter did not belong to the family of Man; all her haggling had no effect on his good-natured stubbornness.

CHAPTER XVII

WHEN THE CAT'S AWAY

Ditte was awakened by the sound of iron being struck, and opened her eyes. The smoking lamp stood on the table, and in front of the fire was her mother hammering a ring off the kettle with a poker. She was not yet dressed; the flames from the fire flickered over her untidy red hair and naked throat. Ditte hastily closed her eyes again, so that her mother should not discover that she was awake. The room was cold, and through the window-panes could be seen the darkness of the night.

Then her father came tramping in with the lantern, which he put out and hung it up behind the door. He was already dressed, and had been out doing his morning jobs. There was a smell of coffee in the room.

"Ah!" said he, seating himself by the table. Ditte peeped out at him; when he was there, there was no fear of being turned out of bed.

"Oh, there you are, little wagtail," said he. "Go to sleep again, it's only five o'clock---but maybe you're thinking of a cup of coffee in bed?"

Ditte glanced at her mother, who stood with her back to her. Then she nodded her head eagerly.

Lars Peter drank half of his coffee, put some more sugar in the cup, and handed it to the child.

Sorine was dressing by the fireplace. "Now keep quiet," said she, "while I tell you what to do. There's flour and milk for you to make pancakes for dinner; but don't dare to put an egg in."

"Good Lord, what's an egg or two," Lars Peter tried to say.

"You leave the housekeeping to me," answered Sorine, "and you'd better get up at once before we leave, and begin work."

"What's the good of that?" said Lars Peter again. "Leave the children in bed till it's daylight. I've fed the animals, and it's no good wasting oil."

This last appealed to Sorine. "Very well, then, but be careful with the fire--and don't use too much sugar."

Then they drove away. Lars Peter was going to the sh.o.r.e to fetch fish as usual, but would first drive Sorine into town, where she would dispose of the month's collection of b.u.t.ter and eggs, and buy in what could not be got from the grocer in the hamlet. Ditte listened to the cart until she dropped asleep again.

When it was daylight, she got up and lit the fire again. The others wanted to get up too, but by promising them coffee instead of their usual porridge and milk she kept them in bed until she had tidied up the room. They got permission to crawl over to their parents' bed, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves there, while Ditte put wet sand on the floor, and swept it. Kristian, who was now five years old, told stories in a deep voice of a dreadful cat that went about the fields eating up all the moo-cows; the two little ones lay across him, their eyes fixed on his lips, and breathless with excitement. They could see it quite plainly--the p.u.s.s.y-cat, the moo-cow and everything--and little Povl, out of sheer eagerness to hurry up the events, put his fat little hand right down Kristian's throat. Ditte went about her duties smiling in her old-fas.h.i.+oned way at their childish talk. She looked very mysterious as she gave them their coffee; and when the time came for them to be dressed, the surprise came out. "Oh, we're going to have our best clothes on--hip, hip, hooray!" shouted Kristian, beginning to jump up and down on the bed.

Ditte smacked him, he was spoiling the bedclothes!