And myself said again to me:
‘Take heed of thyself, look after thyself,
For nobody cares for thee.’”
They sang it together, but all in a different key and in a different measure, so that the effect produced was a shrill discord, as if rasping rattles, and wheezy whistles, and cracked stringed instruments were playing in concert, but each on its own account.
“Well, I must say,” cried Kitty, forgetting her fright, “if I sang those ugly words, at any rate I would sing them in time and all together.”
“We never do anything together,” said the child nearest to her, who happened not to be quite turned into an icicle. “We always cry when others laugh, and laugh when others cry. We always take all we can and do all we can to prevent others from getting anything. That is the way to turn to ice. Every time you do this your heart gets a little colder, a little harder, a little lonelier. It’s quite easy to turn to ice; you have only to think always of yourself.”
“But I don’t want to turn to ice on any account. I don’t want to be cold and hard and lonely. It is the very last thing I want. Nobody would love me,” cried Kitty indignantly.
“But I love myself,” said the ice-child, with a shiver. “I wish I could like what I grab,” it went on, turning beady eyes on the rags and sticks, gathered in a heap by its side; “but I cannot; I only don’t want any one else to have them. Oh, I wish I could thaw!” it said quite suddenly and unexpectedly.
“We wish we could thaw! We wish we could thaw!” sighed all the children together; and the vision faded, slowly faded away.