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Updated: June 19, 2025
"It's done now," said Barbara, with a deep sigh. "We'll have just one more glass and then go to bed." "Oh, dear people, stay a little longer!" whined Zalia. "Don't leave me here alone." "It's only," said Mite, "that it'll be light early to-morrow and we've had no sleep yet." "Come, come," said Barbara, to comfort her, "you mustn't take on now.
A bit later, she sat thinking of other remedies limeflowers, sunflower-seeds, pearl barley, flowers of sulphur when suddenly she saw Mite Kornelje go by. She ran out and called: "Mite!" "What is it, Zalia?" "Mite, Zeen is ill." "What, ill? All at once?" "Yes, all of a sudden, cutting the corn in the field." "Is he bad?"
Zalia, with her head close to the ground, went on binding her sheaves. The sun was blazing. After a while, Zeen took up his sickle again and went on cutting down the corn. With short, even strokes, with a swing of his arm, the sickle rose and, with a "d-zin-n-n" fell at the foot of the cornstalks and brought them down in great armfuls.
Then they set to work: Treze filled the little glasses; Barbara hung the water over the fire; and Warten, in his shirt-sleeves, stropped his razor to shave Zeen's beard. "And the children! The children who are not here!" moaned Zalia. "He ought to have seen the children!" "First say the prayers," ordered Virginie.
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