PAGE 6
The Christening In The Village
by
She shut the door in his face.
Mr. Crane looked the fool he thought himself, and went off home, wishing he had never made the journey.
But as soon as he was gone, Miss Heron, sitting alone in her hut, began to think things over and to be sorry she had spoken in such a hurry.
“After all,” thinks she, “it is poor work living alone. And Mr. Crane, in spite of what I said about his looks, is really a handsome enough young fellow. Indeed at evening, when he stands on one leg, he is very handsome indeed. Yes, I will go and marry him.”
So off flew Miss Heron, flap, flap, over five miles of marsh, and came to the hut of Mr. Crane.
“Is the master at home?”
“At home,” said Mr. Crane.
“Ah, Mr. Crane,” said Miss Heron, “I was chaffing you just now. When shall we be married?”
“No, Miss Heron,” said Mr. Crane; “I have no need of you at all. I do not wish to marry, and I would not take you for my wife even if I did. Clear out, and let me see the last of you.” He shut the door.
Miss Heron wept tears of shame, that ran from her eyes down her long bill and dropped one by one to the ground. Then she flew away home, wishing she had not come.
As soon as she was gone Mr. Crane began to think, and he said to himself, “What a fool I was to be so short with Miss Heron! It’s dull living alone. Since she wants it, I will marry her.” And he flew off after Miss Heron. He came to her hut, and told her,–
“Miss Heron, I have thought things over. I have decided to marry you.”
“Mr. Crane,” said Miss Heron, “I, too, have thought things over. I would not marry you, not for ten thousand young frogs.”
Off flew Mr. Crane.
As soon as he was gone Miss Heron thought, “Why didn’t I agree to marry Mr. Crane? It’s dull alone. I will go at once and tell him I have changed my mind.”
She flew off to betroth herself; but Mr. Crane would have none of her, and she flew back again.
And so they go on to this day–first one and then the other flying across the marsh with an offer of marriage, and flying back with shame. They have never married, and never will.
* * * * *
“Grandfather,” whispered Maroosia, tugging at old Peter’s sleeve, “Vanya is asleep.”
They drove on through the forest silently, except for the creaking of the cart and the loud singing of the nightingales in the tops of the tall firs. They came at last to their hut.
“Ah!” said old Peter, as he lifted them out, first one and then the other; “it isn’t only Vanya who’s asleep.” And he carried them in, and put them to bed without waking them.