Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/128

Lena went soberly into the house. The youngest child, who had not yet passed the stage when an oatmeal bag would cover the greater portion of him, was howling himself into an apoplexy in one corner. Lena picked him up, and in his astonishment at her gentleness he stopped crying on the instant. Mrs. Andersen looked round suddenly at the abrupt cessation of the noise.

‘Father’s gone,’ Lena said cheerfully.

‘Good riddance to him,’ said her mother.

‘He was very sorry, mother, and he is going to be good; and there were tears in his eyes.’

‘Yes, he’s the sort that cries easily. Was there any money in his pocket?’

‘He's going to work and bring us money. Oh, mother, I wish you could forgive him!’

‘Let me forget him then.’

Lena looked wistfully round the wretched room, seeking for an inspiration that might thaw the frozen heart.

‘It seems so hard,’ she said, ‘that all his trying should come to nothing; it seems so cruel. He