Good Stories for Holidays | Page 9

this minute,'' said Helen; ``unless you bring back apples
we will kill you.''
As before, the stepmother seized her roughly and turned her out of the
house. The poor girl went weeping up the mountain, across the deep
snow, and on toward the fire round which were the Twelve Months.
Motionless they sat there, and on the highest stone was the great
January.
``Men of God, may I warm myself at your fire? The winter cold chills
me,'' said she, drawing near.

The great January raised his head. ``Why comest thou here? What does
thou seek?'' asked he.
``I am come to look for red apples,'' replied Marouckla.
``But this is winter, and not the season for red apples,'' observed the
great January.
``I know,'' answered the girl, ``but my sister and stepmother sent me to
fetch red apples from the mountain. If I return without them they will
kill me.''
Thereupon the great January arose and went over to one of the elderly
Months, to whom he handed the wand saying:--
``Brother September, do thou take the highest place.''
September moved to the highest stone, and waved his wand over the
fire. There was a flare of red flames, the snow disappeared, but the
fading leaves which trembled on the trees were sent by a cold northeast
wind in yellow masses to the glade. Only a few flowers of autumn were
visible. At first Marouckla looked in vain for red apples. Then she
espied a tree which grew at a great height, and from the branches of this
hung the bright, red fruit. September ordered her to gather some
quickly. The girl was delighted and shook the tree. First one apple fell,
then another.
``That is enough,'' said September; ``hurry home.''
Thanking the Months she returned joyfully. Helen and the stepmother
wondered at seeing the fruit.
``Where did you gather them?'' asked the stepsister.
``There are more on the mountain-top,'' answered Marouckla.
``Then, why did you not bring more?'' said Helen angrily. ``You must
have eaten them on your way back, you wicked girl.''
``No, dear sister, I have not even tasted them,'' said Marouckla. ``I
shook the tree twice. One apple fell each time. Some shepherds would
not allow me to shake it again, but told me to return home.''
``Listen, mother,'' said Helen. ``Give me my cloak. I will fetch some
more apples myself. I shall be able to find the mountain and the tree.
The shepherds may cry `Stop!' but I will not leave go till I have shaken
down all the apples.''
In spite of her mother's advice she wrapped herself in her pelisse, put
on a warm hood, and took the road to the mountain. Snow covered
everything. Helen lost herself and wandered hither and thither. After a

while she saw a light above her, and, following in its direction, reached
the mountain-top.
There was the flaming fire, the twelve blocks of stone, and the Twelve
Months. At first she was frightened and hesitated; then she came nearer
and warmed her hands. She did not ask permission, nor did she speak
one polite word.
``What hath brought thee here? What dost thou seek?'' said the great
January severely.
``I am not obliged to tell you, old graybeard. What business is it of
yours?'' she replied disdainfully, turning her back on the fire and going
toward the forest.
The great January frowned, and waved his wand over his head.
Instantly the sky became covered with clouds, the fire went down,
snow fell in large flakes, an icy wind howled round the mountain.
Amid the fury of the storm Helen stumbled about. The pelisse failed to
warm her benumbed limbs.
The mother kept on waiting for her. She looked from the window, she
watched from the doorstep, but her daughter came not. The hours
passed slowly, but Helen did not return.
``Can it be that the apples have charmed her from her home?'' thought
the mother. Then she clad herself in hood and pelisse, and went in
search of her daughter. Snow fell in huge masses. It covered all things.
For long she wandered hither and thither, the icy northeast wind
whistled in the mountain, but no voice answered her cries.
Day after day Marouckla worked, and prayed, and waited, but neither
stepmother nor sister returned. They had been frozen to death on the
mountain.
The inheritance of a small house, a field, and a cow fell to Marouckla.
In course of time an honest farmer came to share them with her, and
their lives were happy and peaceful.
THE MAIL-COACH PASSENGERS
BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN (ADAPTED)
It was bitterly cold. The sky glittered with stars, and not a breeze stirred.
``Bump,''--an old pot was thrown at a neighbor's door; and, ``Bang!
Bang!'' went the guns, for they