Part 6 (2/2)
He could hear her turning over. The floor was hard, very likely.
”Louise?”
”Yes.”
”Did you ever see mother?”
”No.”
”Or your father?”
”My father?” She gave a little laugh.
”Yes, haven't you ever seen him either?”
”Why, how should I, silly? Who says that mother knew herself who it was?”
There was a pause. Then Peer brought out, rather awkwardly: ”We're all alone, then--you and I.”
”Yes--we are that.”
”Louise! What are you thinking of taking to now?”
”What are you?”
So Peer told her all his plans. She said nothing for a little while--no doubt she was lying thinking of the grand things he had before him.
At last she spoke. ”Do you think--does it cost very much to learn to be a midwife?”
”A midwife--is that what you want to be, girl?” Peer couldn't help laughing. So this was what she had been planning in these days--since he had offered to help her on in the world.
”Do you think my hands are too big?” she ventured presently--he could just hear the whisper.
Peer felt a pang of pity. He had noticed already how ill the red swollen hands matched her pale clear-cut face, and he knew that in the country, when any one has small, fine hands, people call them ”midwife's hands.”
”We'll manage it somehow, I daresay,” said Peer, turning round to the wall. He had heard that it cost several hundred crowns to go through the course at the midwifery school. It would be years before he could get together anything like that sum. Poor girl, it looked as if she would have a long time to wait.
After that they fell silent. The north-wester roared over the housetops, and presently brother and sister were asleep.
When Peer awoke the next morning, Louise was about already, making coffee over the little stove. Then she opened her box, took out a yellow petticoat and hung it on a nail, placed a pair of new shoes against the wall, lifted out some under-linen and woollen stockings, looked at them, and put them back again. The little box held all her worldly goods.
As Peer was getting up: ”Gracious mercy!” she cried suddenly, ”what is that awful noise down in the yard?”
”Oh, that's nothing to worry about,” said Peer. ”It's only the job-master and his wife. They carry on like that every blessed morning; you'll soon get used to it.”
Soon they were seated once more at the little table, drinking coffee and laughing and looking at each other. Louise had found time to do her hair--the two fair plaits hung down over her shoulders.
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