Part 11 (1/2)

”And just then you all came in.”

”Ha ha! Ha ha ha!”

By this time it was so late that we must start for home and we took the quickest way, over High Street. It was almost dark and there was scarcely a person in sight, as we ran up the street through the March slush and mud.

”Oh, let's knock on Mother Brita's windows!” said I, and we knocked gaily on the little panes as we ran past the house.

At that moment Mother Brita called from her doorway.

”Halloa!” she called. ”Come here a minute. G.o.d be praised that any one should come! Let me speak to you.”

We went slowly back. Perhaps she was angry with us for knocking on her windows.

”Here I am as if I were in prison,” said Mother Brita. ”My little grandchild is sick with bronchitis and I can't leave him a single minute; and my son John, you know him, is out there at Stony Point with his s.h.i.+p, and is going to sail away this very evening, and he sails to China to be gone two years,--and I want so much to say good-bye to him--two whole years--to China--but I can't leave that poor sick baby in there, for he chokes if some one doesn't lift him up when the coughing spells come on--oh, there he's coughing again!”

Mother Brita hurried in, and all four of us after her. A tiny baby lay there in a cradle, and Mother Brita lifted him and held him up while the coughing spell lasted. He coughed so hard that he got quite blue in the face.

”O dear! You see how it is! Now he'll go away--my son John--this very evening, and I may never see him again in this world, uh-huh-huh!”

Poor Mother Brita! It seemed a sin and a shame that she should not at least see her son to bid him good-bye.

”I'll sit here with the baby until you come back, Mother Brita,” said I.

”Yes, I will too.”

”So will I, and I.” All four of us wanted to stay.

”Oh, oh! What kind little girls!” said Mother Brita. ”I will fly like the wind. Just raise him up when the spells come on. I won't be long on the way either going or coming. Well, good-bye, and I'm much obliged to you.” With that Mother Brita was out of the house, having barely taken time to throw a handkerchief over her head.

There we sat. It was a strange ending to an afternoon of fun and mischief. The room was very stuffy; a small candle stood on the table and burned with a long, smoky flame, and back in a corner an old clock ticked very slowly, tick--tock!--tick--tock!

We talked only in whispers. Very soon the baby had another coughing fit.

We raised him up and he choked and strangled as before, and after the coughing, cried as if in pain, without opening his eyes. Poor little thing! Poor baby!

Again we sat still for a while without speaking; then--”I'm so frightened--everything is so dismal,” whispered Karen.

Deep silence broken only by the clock's ticking and the baby's breathing.

”I think I must go,” she added after a minute.

”That is mean of you,” whispered I.

”I must go, too,” whispered Munda. ”They are always so anxious at home when I don't come.”

”I must go too,” whispered Mina.

Then I got a little angry. ”Oh well, all right, go, every one of you!

All right, go on, if you want to be so mean.”

And only think, they did go! They ran out of the door, all three, without a word more. Just then the baby had another attack and I had to hold him up quite a long time before he could get his breath again.