"Madame wishes not the gown? It is beautiful--see the embroidery!
And the neck may be filled with chiffon."
"Young woman," she said grimly, "I see the embroidery; and the
neck may be filled with chiffon, but not for me! And when you
have had five children, you will not buy clothes like that
either."
All the kindliness was gone from the visit to the
Siebensternstrasse; only the determination remained. Wounded to
the heart of her self-esteem, her pride in tatters, she took her
way to the old lodge and climbed the stairs.
She found a condition of mild excitement. Jimmy had slept long
after his bath. Harmony practiced, cut up a chicken for broth,
aired blankets for the chair into which Peter on his return was
to lift the boy.
She was called to inspect the mouse-cage, which, according to
Jimmy, had strawberries in it.
"Far back," he explained. "There in the cotton, Harry."
But it was not strawberries. Harmony opened the cage and very
tenderly took out the cotton nest. Eight tiny pink baby mice,
clean washed by the mother, lay curled in a heap.
It was a stupendous moment. The joy of vicarious parentage was
Jimmy's. He named them all immediately and demanded food for
them. On Harmony's delicate explanation that this was
unnecessary, life took on a new meaning for Jimmy. He watched the
mother lest she slight one. His responsibility weighed on him.
Also his inquiring mind was very busy.
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