The Empire Annual for Girls, 1911 | Page 8

a dog begins to bark. At the
farther corner, where the hedge retreats from its encroachments on the
meadow, a grey house comes into view, with a signboard across its
upper part announcing that here the tired traveller may get dinner and a
bed.
Before the cock has done crowing--and really he goes on so long that it
is a wonder he is not hoarse--another voice mingles with the rest.
It is a woman's voice, and, although neither hoarse nor shrill, it is no
more musical than the crow of the other biped, who struts about on his
widely-spread toes in the yard, to which Christina Fasch has come to
feed the pigs. There are five of them, pink-nosed and yellow-coated,
and they keep up a grunting and snarling chorus within their wooden
enclosure, each struggling to oust a neighbour from his place near the
trough while they all greedily await their food.
[Sidenote: "Come, Anna!"]

"Come, Anna, come," says the hard voice; "what a slow coach you are!
I would do a thing three times over while you are thinking about it!"
* * * * *
The farmyard was bordered by the tall hedge, and lay between it and
the inn. The cow-house, on one side, was separated from the pigstyes
by a big stack of yellow logs, and the farther corner of the inn was
flanked by another stack of split wood, fronted by a pile of brushwood;
above was a wooden balcony that ran also along the house-front, and
was sheltered by the far-projecting eaves of the shingled roof.
Only the upper part of the inn was built of logs, the rest was brick and
plaster. The house looked neatly kept, the yard was less full of the stray
wood and litter that is so usual in a Swiss farmyard, but there was a dull,
severe air about the place. There was not a flower or a plant, either in
the balcony or on the broad wooden shelves below the windows--not so
much as a carnation or a marigold in the vegetable plot behind the
house.
A shed stood in the corner of this plot, and at the sound of Christina's
call a girl came out of the shed; she was young and tall and
strong-looking, but she did not beautify the scene.
To begin with, she stooped; her rough, tangled hair covered her
forehead and partly hid her eyes; her skin was red and tanned with
exposure, and her rather wide lips drooped at the corners with an
expression of misery that was almost grotesque. She carried a pail in
each hand.
"Do be quick!" Christina spoke impatiently as she saw her niece appear
beyond the wood-stack.
Anna started at the harsh voice as if a lash had fallen on her back; the
pig's food splashed over her gown and filled her heavy leather shoes.
"I had better have done it myself," cried her aunt. "See, unhappy child,
you have wasted food and time also! Now you must go and clean your

shoes and stockings; your gown and apron are only fit for the wash-tub!
Ah!"
She gave a deep sigh as she took up first one pail and then the other and
emptied the wash into the pig-trough without spilling a drop by the way.
Anna stood watching her admiringly.
"Well!" Christina turned round on her. "I ask myself, what is the use of
you, child? You are fifteen, and so far it seems to me that you are here
only to make work for others! When do you mean to do things as other
people do them? I ask myself, what would become of you if your father
were a poor man, and you had to earn your living?"
Anna had stooped yet more forward; she seemed to crouch as if she
wanted to get out of sight. Christina suddenly stopped and looked at her
for an answer. Anna fingered her splashed apron; she tried to speak, but
a lump rose in her throat, and she could not see for the hot tears that
would, against her will, rush to her eyes.
"I shall never do anything well," she said at last, and the misery in her
voice touched her aunt. "I used not to believe you, aunt, but now I see
that you are right. I can never be needful to any one." Then she went on
bitterly: "It would have been better if father had taken me up to the lake
on Scesaplana when I was a baby and drowned me there as he drowned
the puppies in the wash-tub."
Christina looked shocked; there was a frown on her heavy face, which
was usually as expressionless as if it had been carved in wood.
[Sidenote: "Go, you unlucky child!"]
"Fie!" she said. "Think