Her eyes brighten now, for a stream of little children comes pouring
from that door. "Look, mother!" she cries, "there are the children!"
and the mother leaves her washing, and comes with dripping hands to
see every tiny boy look up at the window and flourish his hat, and
every girl wave her handkerchief, or kiss her hand. They form a ring;
there is silence for a moment and then, 'mid great flapping of dingy
handkerchiefs and battered hats, a hearty cheer is heard.
"They're cheering my birthday," cries Ingrid. "Miss Mary knows it's my
birthday. Oh, isn't it lovely!" And the thin hands eagerly waft some
grateful kisses to the group below.
The scene has only lasted a few moments, the children have had their
run in the fresh air, and now they go marching back, pausing at the
door to wave good-by to the window far above. The mother carries
Ingrid back to her bed (it is a weary time now since those little feet
touched the floor); but the bed is not as tiresome as usual, nor the
washing as hard, for both hearts are full of sunshine.
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