The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 25, 19 June 1902, Page 23

The Storyteller

ALL FIVE OF THEM.

Winter hau unexpectedly arrived in the night. It had quietly come whilo all were asleep and had filled tho btreets and the lanes of the city with snow, tq tho delight of the children, who scarcely expected their good friend tho snow so early in tiho year ; but not so to the older people, who found 'Walking in the soft, loose snow very difficult. Dr. Brandt, a thick-set man of about 50 years, with an unmistakably good-natured face, made his way through the snow, now and then uttering inaudibly an exasperated remark over tho detestable weather. Having arrived at a pleasant house standing alone in the suburbs tho doctor walked through a small hall into tho kitchen, and thero found a group of five children standing expectantly before the hearth. ' Well, what are you doing hero that you are all huddled together as if in a swallow s nest ? ' said tho doctor, laying aside his hat and cano and stamping the snow from hia shoes. ' We aro waiting for our baked apples to bo done,' said the children. 'So ? Don't forget to save one for me. Is your mother in this room ? ' Ho did not wait for an answer, but opened the door after a hasty knock. A delicate, slight woman arose from a tablo covered with all kinds of drawing material near tho window. Her still perfectly brown hair and the lively expression of her beautiful eyes made her seem younger than her slightly stooping figure and tho downcast features of her palo face would indicato, but she could not have been moro than thirty odd years of age. At tho sudden entrance of the doctor a quick flush came over her features, while a cough shook her vholo frame, compelling her to delay greeting the doctor for a moment The doctor took m her appoaranco with a quick glance. ' Why did you not send for mo earlier if you were sick ? ' ' I hoped it would pass by,' sho answered, still struggling for breath "It sounds like it,' grumbled tho doctor. ' But wo will see ' Ho then put a few short, pointed questions to tho sufferer and examined her lungsWhen ho had finished his countenance woro a peculiar expression Sho threw a searching glanco at him and, smiling with dith'culty said: ' You find mo worse than you thought ? ' ' I find you very sick,' ho answercl, without changing his expression. ' You must he down immediately Absolute lost is tho fn\st necessity for you.' ' It is impossible for mo to think of rest now,' sho replied. ' It is already November. These drawings must bo done in two weeks at tho latest. Tho preparation of illustrations for tho largo journals requires so much time, you seo.' Sho took up a couple of drawings from the tablo and held them out to the doctor ' This wreath of Christmas roses and holly branches is designed to encircle a Christmas poem. This little Swedish peasant's house, with the Christmas sheaf on the roof and the Christmas tree, between whoso boughs children's heads arc peering forth, is to be the headpiece of a Christmas story ' You must not dare take another atroko of work on these things,' said tho doctor, pushing the papers hastily away. ' But, you see, they must be done for Christmas ' ' Someone else can be found to fmftih them.' ' I should forfeitj for ever the confidence of tho editors who gave me a chanco to earn &omo money. No,

doctor, that will not do. Rich people can allow themselves the luxury of being sick, but not the poor She had spoken her last words in a sportive tone, while hei eves still retained their anxiously searching expression. ' Poor people die also,' he said, evading her glanco. ' Do you mean that' I must die 9 ' ' Have I said so ? ' answered tho doctor. ' Not with your lips, but with your eyes. Suddenly she seized his hands and said imploringly. 'Do not say that I must die. 1 daro not, for the sako of my children. Thero are fivo of them and their father is dead.' ' Have you no property ? ' asked the doctor. ' No.' ' No relatives who would take care of your children in an extreme case?' ' I have none.' ' No acquaintances "> Friends ? ' 'No one. As long as I live and hreatho I stand between my children and misery. If I die—' ' You must learn to give yourself absolute rest.' ' flow can I ? Must I fiot earn bread for all "> But I shall surely be better again, doctor ? The desire to live does much, and 1 long to live. Not too long, but several years still until my children aro in a condition to help themselves.' Tho doctor fehook his head ' You aro more- experienced and worldly wiso than 1, doctor Toll me according to your best knowledge what would become of tho children if I should be taken away from them now.' Tho doctor rubbed his forehead a few times with his handkerchief. ' Have you tho right of a native here ? ' ' My husband had ' ' H'm , tho community would have to take care of your children then. One of tho older ones would probably go into the orphan asylum, tho smallest into tho infant asylum, and tho others would bo takon into poor worlungmen's families for a small recompense ' Sho pressed her lips convulsively together, then quietly said • ' You see that I dare not die. Or do you indeed believe that my tender children, nurtured in lo\e, would survive being torn from one another and divided among strangers ? No, God cannot wish it. But I will follow your advice, doctoi , and will spare myself. As soon as these drawings aro done I will lie down and take a thorough rest. Aro you sntislicd with that, doctor? ' 'If it is not too late.' lie wanted to say, but ho had not the heart to do so He pressed the woman's hand and loft tho house hastily, without paying any attention this tune to the company of children m tho kitchen When he was already on tho street ho suddenly heard himself called. ' Doctor, doctor, here is the apple winch wo saved for you ' He stood still and let tho child, a boy of about nine years old, come to him ' .Just you eat it youtself, my boy ' ITo stroked his "flaxen head m a kindly way 'Or give it to your mother And take good care, do you hear, and see that) she does not work too much. Who knows how 1o 1 1 v, ' He did not laush tho sentence, but at the coiner turned onco more and saw the boy still .standing in the middle of (lie street looking after him with earnest and inquiring gaze, still holding tho apple m his hand. * Dr. Brandt fought his- way home in tho storm with bowed head and coat wrapped tightly about him after a hard day's work, for No-

vember had brought with it sicknosa and death. The dampness had settled upon his hair and clothes, while the cutting wind threatened to extinguish the cigar between his lips. He drew a long breath when at last he stood in the comfortablywarmed entry hall of his dwelling. ' Say, Stma,' he called as soon as ho got his breath, ' please draw off those detestable boots. The things stick as if they had grown to me. Such iniscrablo weather ' I believe there is not a dry stitch on me. Put my boot 1 ? on the hearth, but noti too near, so they won't shrink like old glove-skins. Understand ? You can hang my coat nearer. Supper is ready I hope.' ' The cutlets are now on the table.' ' That is good. I am as hungry as a wolf.' Just as the doctor was opening tho door of the diningroom, where his wife was busily engaged among rattling dishes and glasses, the shrill ring of the door bell broke upon his ear. ' Thunder and lightning ! ' exclaimed the doctor. ' I hope no one else will come to-night. One thing I know, whoever it may be, I will not go out to-night. A physician is also a human being, so to speak, and I have done my share for to-day. He opened the door so violently that he almost threw the boy standing close in front of it backward down the steps. ' Well, can't you look out ? ' he called, grasping the boy. What is the matter ? ' The boy did not answer, but stood panting heavily and turned his face to tho light without much ceremony. ' What, is it you ? ' asked the doctor, suddenly calmed when he recognised tho boy who had brought him tho apple a short time before. ' I hope no misfortune has occurred at homo ? ' 'My mother ! ' was all that the boy could utter. The doctor asked no more. The terrified look of the boy must have expressed more than his words. ' Ha, this has come quickly,' he murmured. ' Just wait a moment, my boy , I will come with you at once. Stina, my coat and boots.' wSighing, tho doctor crawled into tho damp coverings of his outer man which he had just laid aside. Five minutes later, without having taken time to greet his wife or cast a planco at the supper table, ho was tramping towards the little house in the suburb through wind and rain and holding the boy fast by the hand. This time no group of children stood by the hearth roasting apples, but a kind neighbor was busy warming cloths and heating water for poultices. With a few words the doctor made himself informed of what had happened and then walked into the room Tho two older children stood before their mother's bed groaning bitterly, and the boy who had come for him now joined them, weeping aloud, while tho two younger children wore fast asleep in their little bed with no forebodings. One glance at the sick woman, who lay upon tho bed with closed eyes as in a swoon, showed the physician that there was little more for him to do. He hastily wrote a prescription which seemed necessary for the moment and sent a neighbor to the apothecary. Suddenly tho sick one opened her eyes, her questioning and confused gaze wandering about until it fell upon the face of the doctor. At the samo moment the sobbing of the children pierced her ear. An expression of anguish spread over her countenance. ' I cannot die. Oh, my children ! ' she whispered. Without answering, but with tender sympathy, the doctor sought to give her all tho aid within his power. But again and again as ho raised her head higher, moistening her dry lips or wiping tho perspiration from her forehead, there sounded in his ear in monotonous, heart-rending tones : ' I cannot die. My children!''

The doctor looked anxiously to the door to see if the neighbor had returned, suddenly there came a change over the countenance of the sick one. A bluish shadow spread itself over her, but it seemed as if he hesitated became dark. The doctor knew that the end was near. Death had laid its hand upon ger, but it seemed as if he hesitated to seize his victim, so great was her unwillingness to follow him. Minute after minute parsed and the agonising ' I cannot die ' still would not cease. Perspiration stood upon the doctor's forehead. He had sat by many a deathbed and witnessed many a hard parting from this life, but this surpassed all that he had ever seen He looked upon the poor woman whom anxiety for her children would not permit to die , he looked upon the children, who had thrown themselves upon the bed in the excess of their grief, vainly endeavoring to smother their pitiful weeping in tho pillows. His honest face quivered and struggled, his breast heaved heavily. When the excruciating ' I cannot die ' again struck upon his ear, a firm determination lighted up his eyes. He bent over the sick one and whispered a few words to her. She suddenly raised herself up and clasped the hands of the doctor. Surprise, unbelieving wonder, rapture spoke out of her gaze, while with waning voice sho asked : ' All five ? ' ' All five, so help me, God,' he answered, earnestly and solemnly. Suddenly tho auguish was gone from her face, and instead an expression of endless rest, of indescribable peace, spread over it and remained hovering about her lips like a smile Gently her fingers slipped into the hand of the doctor. Come here if you want to kiss your mother once more,' called the doctor to tho children ' While the two larger boys, sobbing aloud, covered their mother's face with kisses, the girl hastily brought the two little ones from, their bed that they might take leave of their dying mother. As the smallest one pressed his rosy mouth upon tho pale lips of his mother her head sank back. A soft sigh, a shrill outcry from the children, a slight quiver and all was over. Her figure extended itself for tho lost long sleep With a gentle pi'essure the doctor laid his hand upon her eyes and beckoned to the neighbor just entering : ' Take the children out with you ; their mother has at last found • It was on tho noxt dny, a holiday The doctor and his wife were sitting at the dinner table The doctor's wife was a small, plump woman of pleasant appearance, in spite of her forty years, with a kindly, motherly expression of countenance, sucli as is rarely seen in a childless woman and one who knew her well could easily see that she was planning something special to-day llowe\or tidy and tasty her usual dress, several gay-colored ribbons betrayed her evident desire to please, and though sho was never wanting in attention to her husband, whom she loved with all her heart in spite of his rough ways, tho liveliness with which she played about him through the whole dinner was much more than usual However, tho doctor appeared to notice nothing of all this lie was remarkably sober and absent-minded and helped himself silently to the dishes, which wore chosen with special regard to his taste He became attentive for the first tune when a dish of large prunes was brought upon the table for dessert, winch he could seldom obtain front his wife, although he was very fond of them. He cast a searching glance at her and a somewhat ironical smile appeared upon his lips. 4 What does it mean, wife 9 Speak it out. What will you have. ? '

' What will I have ? How does such a thought enter your mind ? ' ' H'm ! I suppose you have put the prunes on tho table for no purpose ! And the beautiful red ribbons 1 They are indeed very becoming. You are alwaya a very pretty wife. Just tell what you wish.' Tho doctor's wife turned scarlet. Sho had not wished tho affair to turn m such a manner. ' I did wish to talk with you about a little matter, but not so suddenly.' ' Well, allow yourself time. Todny is a holiday. People do not likei to die on a holiday, as I have already found out. Well ? It must be something terribly big that you are so uncommunicative about ' Yes, but you know, Albert, you must let me talk quietly and you must fancy yourself in the mind" of a woman.' ' Of my wife, I suppose ? ' ' And you must not constantly interrupt me. Therefore, now you see it will be eighteen years at Christmas time that wo have lived in thisl same house.' Tho doctor pushed back his plate, laid his pipe, which he had been about to light on tho table, and aroso. 'If you wish to talk of moving, I prefer to go away at once. Every word which you should say about that would bring sorrow to mo.' ' Why, I am not even thinking of moving So please stay.' Tho doctor's wife held her husband fast by the arm. ' 1 only mean that when ono has boon m tho house f>o many years without doing anything to it it is no wonder that it does not looki particularly nice.' 'it suits mo,' said tho doctor, glancing around contentedly. ' But it would pleaso you better if it were once put m order. Just look at the floors. 1 take so much trouble tq Improve their looks, but there is no color left in the old, worn-out boards ' ' Ferhcips you wish French flooring *> ' ' It is not necessary to have French flooring , I would bo peifectly satisfied with hard floors ' So ? Go on, then, for you are certainly not through yet ' ' The old smoky wall papers must go at the same time and also tho old-fashioned curtains Who uses purple curtains nowadays 9 Wo could try mtu curtains if you objected to white ones ' • Then I supposo we would buy new furniture '■> ' ' Only for t'ho parlor We would take tho old furniture out of that into the room next tho sitting-room Your apparatus, which stands m there now, can easily ho put somewhere else and wo would ha\e a charming room.' ' And tho money for all these plans ? ' ' 'Vow. Albert, bo reasonable for once. I know thnt, although \ou take care of half the town for nothing, you lay by a handsome sum every year. But for whom aro you saving it? We have no children ' — a sigh accompanied these words — nlso no near relatives 'So we should spend somothing once m a whilo for ourselves.' The doctor took a couple of long pulls «t Ins pipe ' You used to think a good many times of adopting a child ° ' said the doctor ' Yos\ indeed, I have thought of it, but you know how it nlwavs is. Wo could never find n child well developed mentally and bodily without having a wholo Irani of greedy relatives hanging about ITow often wo ha\o triod it And do you know, I am truly glad it was never accomplished It is alWMvs a v eni uitsoivij thing lo take a stuinge child. Ono never known what is in him And tho ingratitude ono eocenes from strange children ' Tho fi lendship ono bestows upon thorn they take as the.r light ful poition. 'While thov art) small thov cause nothing bub trouble and vexation, and when they aro grown up and need us no more,

it suddenly occurs to them that they are not our children. No, no, Albert, it is better as it is.' Tho doctor looked thoughtful a few moments, then said : ' And I had the intention this very day of asking you to take not only one child, but five.' 'Five children!-' The doctor's wife sank back in her armchair with such a dejected countenance that her husband hastened to add : ' Now, now, I do not of course mean for ever , it would be for only a few days You know that poor Mrs. Mosback died yesterday,' he continued, after a pause, as his wife still remained speechless. ' Her children have no one to take them.' ' Does not the city have to care for them ? ' asked the doctor's wife quietly. ' They will, I suppose, but that can't be done so quickly. The police would first of all take care of the children.' ' Can they not stay with the neighbor's wife of whom you spoke ? ' She has seven children of her own.* ' But I should have no place for so many.' ' You might perhaps use the room next the sitting-room. The few apparatus of mine ' — the doctor could not repress a somewhat malicious wink — ' are easily put away.' ' But five beds cannot be put in there.' ' Two beds and a crib for the little ones would bo enough. The children are accustomed to sleep by twos.' ' But the immense amount of work! Stina will refuse iti.' Stina will be reasonable when I talk with her. If she is not ready, Augusta, the cabinet maker's daughter from across the street, can help me. Her mother asked for work for her to-day.' ' How long will tho children stay?' ' I cannot tell just exactly myself. Not longer than a week.' ' And I hoped to have the houso all remodeled by Christmas.' ' Now, my dear wife, since wo have been so happy for such a long time in tho old house, won't it do for a couplo of weeks longer ?' He looked so lovingly at her that sho yielded and asked ' ' When, then shall the children come ? ' ' To-morrow afternoon after tho burial The neighbor promised to toko care of them until thon. But now I must go. It is high time.' Tho doctor took his hat and cano and left his wife in a very mixed state of mind. Tho conversation which sho had planned and arranged so carefully had ended in an entirely unexpected way * Tho doctor's wifo looked for the coming of the children tho next day with anxious suspense. How will they behave ? Will sho take a fancy to thorn "> There they stood in tho door already, huddled together in a little bunch, liko a handful of snowflakes which the storm had cast away. The three largest, a boy of nine, another of sovon, and a six year old before thorn stood the two youngest, Riil formed the background, while a plump .smiling little fellow of three and a rosy two-year-old girl. The two clung timidly to the folds of their sister's dross, from which their bright oyca looked out half shyly and half questioningly. Tho doctor's wifo glanced hurriedly at tho group and then breathed a sigh of relief. They were not crippled, neglected children, as she had half expected, but the tastily-dressed and well-bred children of an intelligent family, who showed none of that, awkwardness- in their looks and manners which make tho children of tho poor appear so unattractive. Tho conversation did not go on very well. Tho children answered all questions willingly, but one could see how sorrowful they were at heart,* and there wa<! not much change at supper even with the doctor, whom they knew Getter. The children tried

xo eat what was placed before them, but thq older ones struggled with their tears at every mouthful, and the little ones with sleepiness, for they had been broken of their usual rest. They wero all relieved when the doctor finally said • ' You are tired, children, and the best thing for you is to go to bed and sloop. To-morrow everything will look different to you.' Bach, of the children walked up to the doctor and his wife, and shaking hands and bidding them good-night went to the bed-room prepared for %]iexQ Tha doctor's wife was about to follow them, but her husband called her back. ' The more we leave them to themselves tho sooner they will seem at home/ For a while one could bear the children whispering and moving about, and then out of the stillness came tho voice of the oldest, loud and distinct. He prayed devoutly the old children's verse : ' I am tired, go to rest,' and so forth, then he continued : ' Dear God, make me a good boy, and grant that I may find my dear papa in heaven ' — he was going to say what ho had been accustomed to pray with hit, mother ©very night. But when it suddenly occurred to him that he now had to find not only his father but also his mother m heaven, he hesitated. With faltering voico he repeated * ' Grant that I rmiy find my dear papa and my dear mamma ' Here he stopped and suddenly broke into violent, unre&trainable bobbing. At the same moment the self-control of the other children gave way, and for a long tame one could hear nothing but the moaning and sobbing of the other children The doctor walked to the window and looked out into tho darkness, while his wife plied her knitting needles aa if her stockings must be finished that very night. When all was atill in the adjoining room the doctor beckoned to his wife to go in with him. A pathetic picture presented itself to them. The four elder children had crawled out of their two beds into one and had fallen asleep just aa they had clasped each other in their grief, with the tears still on their cheeks. ' Poor children,' whispered tho doctor. While he was cautiously separating them and laying them two by two in their beds, his wife walked to the bed of tho little one. She lay with half-open mouth, breathing sweetly, her flaxen locks falling over her face, her little clenched fists pressed to her cheeks and one of her white, round legs stretched over the bedspread. ' Look at tho dear child,' tho wife Whispered to tho husband. ' Coulil there be a more touching picturo of childish innocence.' Sho hesitated, then threw her arms about her husband's neck, pressed her cheek to his and said 'if you are willing, Albert, I should like to keep this child as my own.' (To bo concluded in our next.)