On the porch stood a little sweet-faced, slightly bent, white-haired old lady in a striped skirt and black jacket. That was her grandmother. Her she remembered quite well, though she had never before noticed her appearance.
It was the same with her brother Daniel and the baby, the housekeeper and Othello the spaniel—they were all quite new to her. True, she remembered them in a way; but this was the first time she had actually seen them.
Moreover, sitting in the little church, her head bowed over the prayer book, she knew that on that Strömstad visit she had not only learned to walk but to see.
It was thanks to that journey that she remembered her nearest and dearest as they were in their prime, when life was a joy to them. But for that, everything relating to those times would have faded out of mind. But with the help of the little red ribbon they lived on. “Let not forgetfulness grow over all this,” the ribbon said to her. “Remember your parents, who gave themselves no rest till they had found a cure for you. Remember Back-Kaisa, her great love and patience, how she braved the terrors of land and sea for your sake.”
[THE OLD HOUSEKEEPER’S TALES]
[I
GRANDMOTHER]
THE year after the Strömstad visit the little Mårbacka children had a great sorrow. They lost their dear grandmother.
Almost up to the very last they had sat with her on the corner sofa in the bedroom and listened to her stories and songs. They could not remember a time when their grandmother had not sung and narrated to them. It had been a glorious life. Never were children so favoured.