In the meantime Wiseli was becoming reconciled to her new home. Her bed had been brought over as her uncle had planned, and it was put in a box-like apartment partitioned off from the aunt's sleeping room. This was barely large enough for the bed and the small trunk which had been brought over with the remainder of the little girl's things. Wiseli had to stand either on the bed or on the trunk when she dressed, and she had to climb over the trunk to get into bed. She had to go to the well out of doors to wash her hands and face. When it was so cold that the water would freeze, the aunt told her to let it go altogether. "I am sure," she said, "that you can wash yourself enough when it gets warmer." Since this advice was not in accordance with her mother's teaching, Wiseli did not accept it.
The life in Wiseli's present surroundings was so different in every way from that to which she had been accustomed, that the comparison often produced severe homesickness, although she was never again so unhappy as on the first evening at her uncle's house. She remembered her beautiful dream and she did not doubt that a better place would be found for her, since she had prayed for it. "My mother will not let God forget me," was the assurance that held up hope before her during those trying days, and the thought of the verses was constantly with her.
"For thee He'll surely save
A place to work His will."
The winter had passed and a promising spring was at hand. The trees put forth their green leaves and the meadow was dotted with primroses and anemones. In the woods the birds were merry, and the warm sunshine changed the barren waste of winter to a living beauty that made all hearts rejoice.
Probably no one enjoyed the balmy days more than Wiseli, and she felt quite happy as she walked to and from school. At other times there was scarcely a moment to spare, not even to notice the pretty flowers, for not only did she have to work every moment, but she had to work hard. She helped with the garden, and, since the aunt worked in the field on the farm, she had to get the meals and wash dishes as well. She did the patching for the whole family, made the gruel for the little pigs, and carried it to them besides; in short, she did everything about the house, so that she often had to stay away from school in order to finish her duties.
Going to school was Wiseli's greatest pleasure. It rested her tired body and, best of all, she heard there kind and friendly words. During recess and after school hours Otto was sure to speak to her in a cordial way, and it did much to relieve the lonely feeling. Sometimes a message came from Mrs. Ritter inviting Wiseli to spend the following Sunday with her children. Wiseli was never allowed to accept these invitations to The Hill, for the aunt would say, "It is the only day that you don't have to go to school, and I can't spare you every day."
Wiseli worked all day Sunday, but it was pleasant to know that the Ritter family had invited her, and there was always the hope that some day she might be allowed to go.
There was another reason why Wiseli liked to go to school. The road went by the home of Joiner Andreas. She had not forgotten that she had the message from her mother to deliver to him. She was too timid to go to the house and ask for him, but she watched for the opportunity to see him in his garden or near his home. She never passed his place without looking over the garden fence to see if he was there. She had not yet seen him, although the garden was in the best of trim and indicated that he spent many hours there.
May and June had passed, and now the long hot summer days had come, bringing increased work on the farm. Wiseli had to go to the haymaking. She was expected either to rake the hay together or to use the fork in spreading it in the sun, working all day long until her arms ached so wretchedly that she could not sleep. This, however, was not what made her unhappy, for it did not occur to her that she ought not to work as she did. Her great trouble was that she had to miss school, except on rainy days, or occasionally when the aunt said that she might go. Chappi often said in the evening, when he was doing his examples, "Why don't you get your lessons, Wiseli? You never know anything, and you seem to think that you can live without working."
It was this that hurt Wiseli, for she could rarely go to school two days in succession, and so she was not able to keep up with the class. One day, when she failed to give a correct answer, the teacher said, "I did not expect that of you, Wiseli; you used to be a good scholar." How it shamed the child, and how she cried all the way home that night, no one but herself realized! It seemed to her that day that no one cared for her after all, and when she got into her little bed at night, she felt too miserable even to pray. But she could not sleep until she had repeated her usual prayer, although it was said almost hopelessly.