CHAPTER VIII
A WITCH AT THE WINDOW
When the children woke the next morning, there was no Helma. Her bed had not been slept in. They had been too sleepy the night before to wonder at her absence, but now they could hardly believe their eyes. The room was strange and lonely without her. The fire had died in the night. They sat up in their beds and talked about it.
"She always comes back before bedtime," said Ivra. "She has never stayed away before."
Eric said, "Perhaps that is why the Tree Mother brought you in and undressed you—perhaps she knew our mother had not come back. She looked wise, as though she knew everything."
"She does know everything,—at least everything in the forest. But did she bring me in, right here in her arms, Eric!"
"And undressed you while you were sound asleep."
Ivra laughed with delight, and clasped her hands. "Truly, truly? The dear Tree Mother undressed me? Are you sure? Did she kiss me good-night?—" But suddenly she grew solemn. "Yes, she knew that mother was not here. She only takes care of those who have no one else. Well, we will have to wait for mother, that is all. She will surely come this morning."
But she did not come that morning, nor that day, nor for many days. You shall hear it all.