Then Hansi made a diversion by being discovered with the thin rind of
the cheese that his mother had put aside for the seasoning of another
day's dish.
"What are you doing, Hansi?" she cried and took it from his chubby, six
year old hand.
"But, Mama, I'm so hungry, I can't wait for the rice," and tears rose
to his eyes, "I didn't mean anything bad!"
"I know, I know," his mother answered, those stupid tears that were
always ready springing to her own eyes, "mother didn't mean anything
bad either, but whatever we have is for all of us."
Hansi had dark curls and soft eyes and seemed like the merest baby as
he stood looking at her, great round tears rolling down his cheeks. But
there was something sturdy about his thinness and pallor, something
resistant; Hansi, like Resl, was one who would survive.
Lilli and Resl followed about by Else had put the plates and forks and
spoons on the table and drawn up the motley collection of chairs.
"Is everything laid on nice and straight? Tante Ilde has brought us
such a good dinner!" their mother called out as she came in with the
great smoking platter of rice sending up its maddening odor and placed
it heavily on the table. But she turned and kissed her aunt before she
began to serve it.
Frau Stacher was conscious of the softest, warmest pleasure. One moment
like this and hard things were forgotten. Kaethe's very expansiveness,
that could so easily be released, communicated joy. And Kaethe never
minded how much noise the children made, so others were undisturbed.
Kaethe never fussed though she sometimes wept and often silently
despaired. But now that full platter, those clattering spoons! Though
mortals were certainly composed of spirit as well as flesh, hot food,
even one meal of it, could change everything. Yes, everything. The
children got uproariously gay, and Tante Ilde and Kaethe began to feel
sure something would soon happen to make things all right again....
Then Tante Ilde heard how Lilli instead of her mother, now went out
early every morning, too early for her thirteen years, and stood in
the bread-line at the bakery, (her father had tried it but had proved
singularly inept at holding his place,) and how you just had to keep
your wits about you or you would find that some one had sneaked in
ahead, and it was such a trouble getting back your place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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