Heimatlos Part 19

Just then Otto's voice was nearly drowned by a loud stamping behind the stove, and he paused to say, "What are you making such an outlandish noise for, you Miez behind the stove?"

Miezi came out in sight of the others, her cheeks flaming red from the heat of the stove combined with her exertions in trying to get her feet into a pair of wet shoes which Trina had but a short time before taken off with the greatest difficulty.

She continued her efforts, but managed to say, "You can see that I have to do it; no one on earth could put on these things without stamping."

"Why must they be put on, when I have just taken the pains to get you out of them?" asked Trina.

"I am going to Beechgreen to get Wiseli; she can have my bed," replied Miezi, with a finality that seemed to admit of no interference.

Her operations were nevertheless cut short by Trina, who picked her up in her arms and carried her to a chair.

"That is nice of you, Miezchen," she said, "but I had better do that errand for you. There is no reason why you should wear out your shoes getting ready. You can let Wiseli have your bed and you can go to the attic to sleep. There is plenty of room up there."

This, however, was not in harmony with Miezi's plans; she had solved the sleeping problem to her own as well as to Wiseli's advantage, for nothing else would suit her so well as never to have to go to bed. So long as she could remember, she had always been sent to bed when she wanted very much to be up.

It soon became evident to Miezi, not only that Trina was keeping her from going to Wiseli, but that she had no intention of going in her place. When Trina frankly refused to go, Miezi cried so bitterly that Otto put his hands over his ears, and the mother came to make terms of peace. She promised to talk the matter over with papa just as soon as he and Uncle Max returned from a long-contemplated visit at a friend's house some distance away.

It was four days later when the colonel and Uncle Max returned. The children brought the subject of Wiseli's coming to live with them before the father at once, and he promised to investigate the conditions the next morning.

At noon the following day the colonel came home with the information that he was too late to get Wiseli. "You know, children," he said, "her uncle Gotti really wants to help the girl. He is a highly respected man and he offered to take the child for very little money.

Wiseli's mother left her scarcely anything, so somebody had to offer her a home, and it seemed natural that her uncle should do so.

Everybody feels satisfied that she has been well placed. I believe it is the best arrangement that could be made, for she is much too young to go out to work. We cannot take all the homeless children unless we put up an orphanage."

"I had only hoped," said Mrs. Ritter, "that we might help to find a place more suited to the child. She has a sensitive nature as well as a frail body, and she ought to be somewhere else. She will hear a great deal that is coa.r.s.e and rude where she is, and will have to work much too hard for her delicate const.i.tution. We shall have to accept the situation, but I am sorry that we cannot help her in some way."

Miezi cried, and Otto struck the table with his clenched fist to emphasize how he would deal with Chappi if he were unkind to Wiseli.

It was only a few days, however, before the children grew accustomed to thinking of the little girl in her new surroundings, and the weeks sped on as rapidly as ever.

In the meantime Wiseli was becoming reconciled to her new home. Her bed had been brought over as her uncle had planned, and it was put in a box-like apartment part.i.tioned off from the aunt's sleeping room.

This was barely large enough for the bed and the small trunk which had been brought over with the remainder of the little girl's things.

Wiseli had to stand either on the bed or on the trunk when she dressed, and she had to climb over the trunk to get into bed. She had to go to the well out of doors to wash her hands and face. When it was so cold that the water would freeze, the aunt told her to let it go altogether. "I am sure," she said, "that you can wash yourself enough when it gets warmer." Since this advice was not in accordance with her mother's teaching, Wiseli did not accept it.

The life in Wiseli's present surroundings was so different in every way from that to which she had been accustomed, that the comparison often produced severe homesickness, although she was never again so unhappy as on the first evening at her uncle's house. She remembered her beautiful dream and she did not doubt that a better place would be found for her, since she had prayed for it. "My mother will not let G.o.d forget me," was the a.s.surance that held up hope before her during those trying days, and the thought of the verses was constantly with her.

"For thee He'll surely save A place to work His will."

The winter had pa.s.sed and a promising spring was at hand. The trees put forth their green leaves and the meadow was dotted with primroses and anemones. In the woods the birds were merry, and the warm sunshine changed the barren waste of winter to a living beauty that made all hearts rejoice.

Probably no one enjoyed the balmy days more than Wiseli, and she felt quite happy as she walked to and from school. At other times there was scarcely a moment to spare, not even to notice the pretty flowers, for not only did she have to work every moment, but she had to work hard.

She helped with the garden, and, since the aunt worked in the field on the farm, she had to get the meals and wash dishes as well. She did the patching for the whole family, made the gruel for the little pigs, and carried it to them besides; in short, she did everything about the house, so that she often had to stay away from school in order to finish her duties.

Going to school was Wiseli's greatest pleasure. It rested her tired body and, best of all, she heard there kind and friendly words. During recess and after school hours Otto was sure to speak to her in a cordial way, and it did much to relieve the lonely feeling. Sometimes a message came from Mrs. Ritter inviting Wiseli to spend the following Sunday with her children. Wiseli was never allowed to accept these invitations to The Hill, for the aunt would say, "It is the only day that you don't have to go to school, and I can't spare you every day."

Wiseli worked all day Sunday, but it was pleasant to know that the Ritter family had invited her, and there was always the hope that some day she might be allowed to go.

There was another reason why Wiseli liked to go to school. The road went by the home of Joiner Andreas. She had not forgotten that she had the message from her mother to deliver to him. She was too timid to go to the house and ask for him, but she watched for the opportunity to see him in his garden or near his home. She never pa.s.sed his place without looking over the garden fence to see if he was there. She had not yet seen him, although the garden was in the best of trim and indicated that he spent many hours there.

May and June had pa.s.sed, and now the long hot summer days had come, bringing increased work on the farm. Wiseli had to go to the haymaking. She was expected either to rake the hay together or to use the fork in spreading it in the sun, working all day long until her arms ached so wretchedly that she could not sleep. This, however, was not what made her unhappy, for it did not occur to her that she ought not to work as she did. Her great trouble was that she had to miss school, except on rainy days, or occasionally when the aunt said that she might go. Chappi often said in the evening, when he was doing his examples, "Why don't you get your lessons, Wiseli? You never know anything, and you seem to think that you can live without working."

It was this that hurt Wiseli, for she could rarely go to school two days in succession, and so she was not able to keep up with the cla.s.s.

One day, when she failed to give a correct answer, the teacher said, "I did not expect that of you, Wiseli; you used to be a good scholar."

How it shamed the child, and how she cried all the way home that night, no one but herself realized! It seemed to her that day that no one cared for her after all, and when she got into her little bed at night, she felt too miserable even to pray. But she could not sleep until she had repeated her usual prayer, although it was said almost hopelessly.

This happened in July. The following morning Wiseli was standing at the table when the boys went off to school, and she was wondering whether or not she should be allowed to go. The aunt said nothing, and the uncle was not in the room.

The aunt had a large washing on hand for that day. Would she be asked to carry it to the trough and help?

Yes, she heard her aunt calling, and she was just about to answer when her uncle came in, saying, "Hurry, Wiseli, the boys have gone already.

The hay is safe in the barn, and you shall go to school now. You may tell the teacher that you will not be kept out any more for a while, and explain to him that it was because we had so much work on our hands that you had to stay away."

Wiseli felt as free as a bird that morning. She knew that she might go to school every day that week, and it was something worth living for.

How beautiful the morning was! The birds warbled their care-free notes in the tree tops, the sunlight sparkled on the dewy gra.s.s, and the air was fragrant with the perfume of the wild flowers. Wiseli had no time to stop, but she noticed all this beauty as she ran along.

That afternoon, just as the school children were about to rush out to their freedom, the teacher asked, "Whose turn is it to care for the schoolroom this week?"

"It is Otto's; it is Otto's!" cried the children, and the next moment they were gone.

"Otto," said the teacher sternly, "you didn't do your duty here last night. I will overlook it this time, but I want you to see that it does not happen again, or I shall be obliged to enforce the penalty upon you."

Otto glanced around the room and saw the nutsh.e.l.ls, apple parings, and bits of paper that he was supposed to clean up; then he looked at the children playing out of doors, and the first thing he knew he was among them. The teacher had already left the room.

Later, when the children were all gone, Otto stood for a moment watching the golden glow of the evening sky and thought, "If I could only go home now! I would pick my cap full of cherries and take a ride out to the meadow with the hired man; now I have to go to that stuffy room and sweep and dust it."

Otto's patience forsook him as he started for the schoolroom. "I shouldn't care," he said, "if a cyclone came along and shattered the old house into a thousand pieces." There was no alternative, however; he must either take his turn at cleaning the schoolroom, or he must stay in at recess to-morrow. He had no sooner entered the room than he noticed, to his great surprise, that the work was done. Not a speck of dust was to be seen, and the windows had been opened wide, letting the air enter freely, so that the room seemed as fresh as out of doors.

Just at this moment the teacher entered hastily and looked in astonishment at the staring Otto. Then he noticed the clean room and said kindly, "You may be satisfied with your work to-night. I did not expect you to do so well, although you are always good at your lessons. Good night."

Now that Otto was convinced that what he saw was real, he seized his cap and, clearing the steps in two jumps, ran all the way up the hill.

It did not occur to him to seek for an explanation of what had happened, until he told his mother about it when he reached home.

"You may be sure that no one did it for you by mistake," said his mother. "You must have some good friend who has willingly sacrificed himself for you. Perhaps you can think of some one who may have done it."

"I know who it was," said Miezi, who had been listening.

"Who?" asked Otto.

"Henry, because you gave him an apple about a year ago," said Miezi, emphatically.

"Yes, or William Tell, because I didn't take his away from him about a year ago; that would be just as sensible, you little Miezi," said Otto, as he playfully stroked her cheek. Just then he saw an opportunity to ride out to the hayfields, so the subject was dropped.

In the meantime Wiseli was tripping down the hill happier than she had been for many a day. She pa.s.sed Joiner Andreas's house, but retraced her steps in order to get a good view of the carnation bed.

"It is a little late," she thought, "but I shall get home before the boys, anyway, for they are probably playing somewhere."

Just as she was admiring the flowers, the joiner came out of the house and walked directly toward her. "Wouldn't you like to have a few carnations, Wiseli?" he said.

"Yes, very much," she answered. "My mother wanted me to tell you something, too."