done, of a mother to her own child, about the few drops she had taken; and
she was still more angry because, on that very day, the mayor was going to
have a dinner-party, at which there would be wine, strong, rich wine, drunk
by the bottle. “Many will take more than they ought, but they don’t call that
drinking! They are all right, you are good for nothing indeed!” cried Martha
indignantly.
“And so he spoke to you in that way, did he, my child?” said the washer-
woman, and her lips trembled as she spoke. “He says you have a mother
who is good for nothing. Well, perhaps he is right, but he should not have
said it to my child. How much has happened to me from that house!”
“Yes,” said Martha; “I remember you were in service there, and lived in
the house when the mayor’s parents were alive; how many years ago that is.
Bushels of salt have been eaten since then, and people may well be thirsty,”
and Martha smiled. “The mayor’s great dinner-party to-day ought to have
been put off, but the news came too late. The footman told me the dinner
was already cooked, when a letter came to say that the mayor’s younger
brother in Copenhagen is dead.”
“Dead!” cried the laundress, turning pale as death.
“Yes, certainly,” replied Martha; “but why do you take it so much to
heart? I suppose you knew him years ago, when you were in service there?”
“Is he dead?” she exclaimed. “Oh, he was such a kind, good-hearted man,
there are not many like him,” and the tears rolled down her cheeks as she
spoke. Then she cried, “Oh, dear me; I feel quite ill: everything is going
round me, I cannot bear it. Is the bottle empty?” and she leaned against the
plank.
“Dear me, you are ill indeed,” said the other woman. “Come, cheer up;
perhaps it will pass off. No, indeed, I see you are really ill; the best thing for
me to do is to lead you home.”
“But my washing yonder?”
