"Oh,do be quiet,"whispered the Child."Oh,do get up and dress.You know what will happen.There--I'll help you."But the warning came too late.The Frau got out of bed,walked in a determined fashion into the kitchen,returning with a bundle of twigs in her hand fastened together with a strong cord.One by one she laid the children across her knee and severely beat them,expending a final burst of energy on the Child-Who-Was-Tired,then returned to bed,with a comfortable sense of her maternal duties in good working order for the day.Very subdued,the three allowed themselves to be dressed and washed by the Child,who even laced the boys'boots,having found through experience that if left to themselves they hopped about for at least five minutes to find a comfortable ledge for their foot,and then spat on their hands and broke the bootlaces.
While she gave them their breakfast they became uproarious,and the baby would not cease crying.When she filled the tin kettle with milk,tied on the rubber teat,and,first moistening it herself,tried with little coaxing words to make him drink,he threw the bottle on to the floor and trembled all over.
"Eye teeth!"shouted Hans,hitting Anton over the head with his empty cup;"he's getting the evil-eye teeth,I should say.""Smarty!"retorted Lena,poking out her tongue at him,and then,when he promptly did the same,crying at the top of her voice,"Mother,Hans is making faces at me!""That's right,"said Hans;"go on howling,and when you're in bed to-night I'll wait till you're asleep,and then I'll creep over and take a little tiny piece of your arm and twist and twist it until--"He leant over the table making the most horrible faces at Lena,not noticing that Anton was standing behind his chair until the little boy bent over and spat on his brother's shaven head.
"Oh,weh!oh,weh!"
The Child-Who-Was-Tired pushed and pulled them apart,muffled them into their coats,and drove them out of the house.
"Hurry,hurry!the second bell's rung,"she urged,knowing perfectly well she was telling a story,and rather exulting in the fact.She washed up the breakfast things,then went down to the cellar to look out the potatoes and beetroot.
Such a funny,cold place the coal cellar!With potatoes banked on one corner,beetroot in an old candle box,two tubs of sauerkraut,and a twisted mass of dahlia roots--that looked as real as though they were fighting one another,thought the Child.
She gathered the potatoes into her skirt,choosing big ones with few eyes because they were easier to peel,and bending over the dull heap in the silent cellar,she began to nod.
"Here,you,what are you doing down there?"cried the Frau,from the top of the stairs."The baby's fallen off the settle,and got a bump as big as an egg over his eye.Come up here,and I'll teach you!""It wasn't me--it wasn't me!"screamed the Child,beaten from one side of the hall to the other,so that the potatoes and beetroot rolled out of her skirt.
The Frau seemed to be as big as a giant,and there was a certain heaviness in all her movements that was terrifying to anyone so small.
"Sit in the corner,and peel and wash the vegetables,and keep the baby quiet while I do the washing."Whimpering she obeyed,but as to keeping the baby quiet,that was impossible.His face was hot,little beads of sweat stood all over his head,and he stiffened his body and cried.She held him on her knees,with a pan of cold water beside her for the cleaned vegetables and the "ducks'bucket"for the peelings.
"Ts--ts--ts!"she crooned,scraping and boring;"there's going to be another soon,and you can't both keep on crying.Why don't you go to sleep,baby?I would,if I were you.I'll tell you a dream.Once upon a time there was a little white road--"She shook back her head,a great lump ached in her throat and then the tears ran down her face on to the vegetables.
"That's no good,"said the Child,shaking them away."Just stop crying until I've finished this,baby,and I'll walk you up and down."But by that time she had to peg out the washing for the Frau.A wind had sprung up.Standing on tiptoe in the yard,she almost felt she would be blown away.There was a bad smell coming from the ducks'coop,which was half full of manure water,but away in the meadow she saw the grass blowing like little green hairs.And she remembered having heard of a child who had once played for a whole day in just such a meadow with real sausages and beer for her dinner--and not a little bit of tiredness.Who had told her that story?She could not remember,and yet it was so plain.
The wet clothes flapped in her face as she pegged them;danced and jigged on the line,bulged out and twisted.She walked back to the house with lagging steps,looking longingly at the grass in the meadow.
"What must I do now,please?"she said.
