“Good-by, dears!”
CHAPTER V.
MAY’S GARDEN.
THE chicks throve. Day by day their legs grew strong, their yellow bodies round and full, and their calls for food more clamorous. As the snow melted, and the sun made warm spots on the earth, they began to run from the cottage-door, and poke and scratch about with their bills. But they always came back to the basket to sleep; and Thekla prepared their food, and watched over them as well as any old hen could have done.
“Round his head she put a wreath of long sprays. It was great fun.”
She found time for this in the midst of other work. There was much to do, after a whole month’s neglect: the house needed cleaning and setting to rights, and the yarn for the new suit must be finished at once. The busy wheel hummed and whirred more noisily than ever, in the afternoons, now growing long and bright; and Max, his cold quite cured, sat by, with his carving-tools, as busy as she. Altogether, the time flew rapidly; and the cheerfulness left by April’s visit still lay upon the cottage when the evening came for May to appear.
There was no languor or dulness this time. The hearth was cleanly swept, and the door left ajar that the guest might see the light as she walked through the Forest. But so quiet was her coming, that her hand was on the latch before they knew it, and both of them jumped at the sound of her knock. As she came in, they saw that a lamb was trotting beside her, held by a band of young spring grasses, curiously woven together.
“This is my present,” she said.