| not
to make it obvious to Marsden, Nicholas gradually cleaned
and brightened the cottage to make his enforced home
bearable. One night as Marsden sat in front of the fire, silently smoking his long curved pipe, he noticed that Nicholas was still bent over the workbench engrossed in some task. "Here lad," he said almost kindly, in his gruff voice. "I’m not such a hard master that I would have you work night as well as day. What’s that you’re doing? Why don’t you go to your bed? "It’s only a small piece of wood you threw away," said Nicholas quickly, "I’m trying to make a copy of that chair you finished today, but this is a little one- a toy," he ended fearfully, for he well knew that the word "toy" would mean children to old Marsden, and for some strange reason just to mention a child in his presence sent him into a terrible rage. Tonight however, he contented himself with merely a black look, and said, "Let me see it. Hmm, not bad, but you have the scroll on the back larger on one side than the other. Here, pass me that small knife." Nicholas hastened to give him the small tool and watched admiringly as the old craftsman deftly corrected the mistake "There," Marsden said finally, holding the work away from him so that he could study it, "that’s the way it should be done." Then, instead of handing the little chair to Nicholas, who was waiting expectantly, he continued holding it in his hands whilst a sad expression came into the fierce old eyes as he remembered the toys he had made for his own two sons many, many years ago. Slowly a smile grew on the tired old face, Nicholas blinked and looked again. Yes a real smile was page 12 |
7b |
fever,
recognizing no one, not even her beloved Nicholas. He
brought flowers to her, hoping that they might bring back
the wandering little mind, but she only pushed them away
and went on with her delirious ravings of big black
giants and horrible goblins. For with her illness, her
almost forgotten fears had returned and with a heavy
heart Nicholas realised that their friendly little talks
had been completely wiped from her mind. She gradually
recovered but the fever left her the same pale, timid
little girl she had been when she had first brought a
bouquet to Nicholas. Holly was sadder than she had ever been during her entire life. Everything seemed black to her and her nights were filled with terror in spite of all that Nicholas had told her. But more than anything else, he worried because she had no flowers to take to him. Holly pressed her thin little face against the window pane and looked with tear filled eyes out into her bleak front garden. As some boys passed her gate they paused to wave kindly to her. Holly waved back and wiped her eyes. She pushed open the window a little and called out, "What’s that green bush you have in your sled Karl?" The boys came over to the window and Karl held up an armful of branches with lovely little warm red berries scattered among shiny pointed green leaves. "Why it’s so beautiful!" exclaimed Holly, clasping her hands. Her dull eyes began to sparkle a little as she asked, "What is it? Where did you get it Karl?" "We found it in the woods, way back in the part they call the dark forest. It grows like this even in the middle of winter but I page 37 |