A Little Norsk | Page 9

could, and
when he lifted her she twined her arms around his neck.
"Poor little critter! she ain't got no pap ner mam now," the old woman
explained to the ring of children, who still stared silently at the stranger
almost without moving.
"Ain't he her pa-a-p?" drawled one of the older girls, sticking a finger at
Anson.

"He is now," laughed Ans, and that settled the question over which he
had been pondering for days. It meant that as long as she wanted to stay
she should be his Flaxen and he would be her "pap." "And you can be
Uncle Bert, hey?" he said to Bert.
"Good enough," said Bert.
CHAPTER V.
FLAXEN BECOMES INDISPENSABLE TO THE TWO OLD
BACHELORS.
They never found any living relative, and only late in the spring was
the fate of the poor father revealed. He and his cattle were found side
by side in a deep swale, where they had foundered in the night and
tempest.
As for little Flaxen, she soon recovered her cheerfulness, with the
buoyancy natural to childhood, and learned to prattle in broken English
very fast. She developed a sturdy self-reliance that was surprising in
one so young, and long before spring came was indispensable to the
two "old baches."
"Now, Bert," said Ans one day, "I don't wan' to hear you talk in that
slipshod way any longer before Flaxen. You know better; you've had
more chance than I have--be'n to school more. They ain't no excuse for
you, not an ioty. Now, I'm goin' to say to her, 'Never mind how I talk,
but talk like Bert does."
"Oh, say, now, look here, Ans, I can't stand the strain. Suppose she'd
hear me swearin' at ol' Barney or the stove?"
"That's jest it. You ain't goin' to swear," decided Anson; and after that
Bert took the education of the little waif in hand, for he was a man of
good education; his use of dialect and slang sprang mainly from
carelessness.
But all the little fatherly duties and discipline fell to Anson, and much

perplexed he often got. For instance, when he bought her an outfit of
American clothing at the store they were strange to her and to him, and
the situation was decidedly embarrassing when they came to try them.
"Now, Flaxie, I guess this thing goes on this side before, so's you can
button it. If it went on so, you couldn't reach around to button it, don't
you see? I guess you'd better try it so. An' this thing, I judge, is a shirt,
an' goes on under that other thing, which I reckon is called a shimmy.
Say, Bert, shouldn't you call that a shirt?" holding up a garment.
"W-e-l-l, yes" (after a close scrutiny). "Yes: I should."
"And this a shimmy?"
"Well, now, you've got me, Ans. It seems to me I've heard the women
folks home talk about shimmies, but they were always kind o' private
about it, so I don't think I can help you out. That little thing goes
underneath, sure enough."
"All right, here goes, Flax; if it should turn out to be hind side before,
no matter."
Then again little Flaxen would want to wear her best dress on
week-days, and Ans was unable to explain. Here again Bert came to the
rescue.
"Git her one dress fer ev'ry day in the week, an' make her wear 'em in
rotation. Hang 'em up an' put a tag on each one--Sunday, Monday, an'
so on."
"Good idea."
And it was done. But the embarrassments of attending upon the child
soon passed away; she quickly grew independent of such help, dressed
herself, and combed her own hair, though Anson enjoyed doing it
himself when he could find time, and she helped out not a little about
the house. She seemed to have forgotten her old life, awakening as she
had from almost deathly torpor into a new home--almost a new

world--where a strange language was spoken, where no woman was,
and where no mention of her mother, father, or native land was ever
made before her. The little waif was at first utterly bewildered, then
reconciled, and by the time spring came over the prairie was almost
happy in the touching way of a child deprived of childish things.
Oh, how sweet spring seemed to those snow-weary people! Day after
day the sun crept higher up in the sky; day after day the snow gave way
a little on the swells, and streams of water began to trickle down under
the huge banks of snow, filling the ravines; and then at last came a day
when a strange, warm wind blew from the northwest. Soft and sweet
and sensuous it was, as if it swept some tropic bay filled with