"Her gentleness was exquisite, but it made my heart ache. I knew this was all the food she had, and I was puzzled to know what to do. While I was pondering the girl hushed the little one to sleep, after she had rubbed his legs with her poor thin little hands. Laying the child down, she brought in a few fagots and made a little blaze on the hearth, and with a handful of herbs brewed some sort of a tea from the water in the pot which hung over the blaze. It was a sorry sight, this poverty and wretchedness, but it was a beautiful sight also to behold this sisterly care and affection. Evidently she had long nursed this poor little cripple. How could I relieve her? was my perplexity. I had not seen any houses near, no neighbors were at hand. I determined to try and enlist the sympathy of the Chief Gardener Elf, and yet I also feared the result. Just as I left the little hut I met a woodsman, and the happy thought came to me to whisper my wish in his ear; that is to say, I spoke in fairy fashion my plan of relief for these poor children, abandoned as they seemed to be by all human beings. I was rewarded by seeing the man enter the little abode. Resolving to return as soon as I could, I was making my way through the forest when I fell, and was obliged to despatch the first Herb Elf who came in my way to gain assistance. To my great annoyance, the Chief Gardener Elf had gone to South America for seeds. I could not follow him, and I would not intrust the lesser elves with a message to him, lest I should do the children more harm than good. Relying, therefore, upon the little assistance which the poor woodsman I met would undoubtedly give after my suggestion, I was obliged, my dear madam, to return to you."
"Oh, my dear Grim," cried Laura, "how could you leave them to starve! Let us go, dear Motherkin—pray let us go to those poor little children. Quick! quick! they must be suffering so much."
She fell on her knees before the Motherkin in her great anxiety and excitement, and the tears of pity rolled down from her blue eyes.
Grim nodded his head with satisfaction.
"Ay, my lady, do go; do not wait for my lame leg to get well. The way is rough and fatiguing, but by all means let Lady Laura go and do what she can for those suffering little ones."
Laura did not want to wait a moment; she begged the Motherkin to start at once, that very night; but the old lady insisted upon the night's rest.
"But I cannot sleep, dear Motherkin— I am sure I cannot sleep; pray let us go. I am so afraid they are suffering dreadfully."
"We have to arrange matters a little, Laura," urged the Motherkin, pleased at the child's earnest desire to aid the little unfortunates. "I will go as early as we can to-morrow; and now let me see you show prudence as well as zeal by sleeping soundly, and so fitting yourself for the fatigue of a journey. Come, dear, to bed, and hope that the good angels are caring for the little ones we are so sorry for."
Grim, too, assured Laura that this plan was best, and that he felt confident the woodsman would do all he could until they reached the little sufferers.
So Laura went to bed, her heart stirred with very new emotions, that were both happy and painful; the desire to do good, the hope that she might relieve the poor little objects of her pity, made her glad, while the thought of their pain and poverty caused her real sorrow. Her bed no longer seemed hard, nor her little room empty of any luxuries; and, as she looked out at the stars glittering in the sky and listened to the running of the brook, she prayed that she might be of use to the poor children of the forest.