After Ulrica had laid Nelly on the bed, she went to the big chest in the corner, and took out a fine red woollen blanket, with bright blue figures in the corners. This she spread over Nelly; and then she stood looking at her for some minutes. Nelly's face, when she was asleep, looked much older than it really was. Her eyes were large, and her mouth was large, and her cheek-bones were high.
"Mine child! mine child!" muttered Ulrica, under her breath, and brushed the tears out of her eyes with the back of her hard hand, as she went back to her work.
When Nelly waked up, dinner was all ready; and Jan and Ulrica were discussing whether they should wake Nelly or not.
"Oh!" exclaimed Nelly, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, "how came I here? Where's Rob?"
Ulrica sprang to her, and took her little hand in hers.
"Mine child, you haf sleep in chair. I bring you in mine arms here. Haf you rest? Come eat." And she picked her up again, and ran laughing back and forth two or three times across the room with her in her arms.
"She is like baby in arms: she is so light," said Ulrica to Jan in Swedish. "She has too much work."
"No, no," said Jan: "she is all right. She is at the age to be thin." But Ulrica shook her head.
How good that dinner was, and how nice it looked! There was no cloth on the table; but the wood was white as pine wood could be. On one end stood Nelly's pyramid of bright flowers; and, on the other, the great platter of stewed chicken, with the red cranberries floating in the white gravy. Then there was a big plate of rye cakes, baked in the ashes; and two pitchers of milk, one of cow's and one of goat's. Jan always bowed his head down and said a short blessing in Swedish, before they began to eat; and Nelly and Rob liked this, because, as Nelly said:—
"It makes you feel as if Jan were just as good as papa: doesn't it, Rob?"