Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Baby’s Mother
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said, and afterwards the same phrase was always
added, “You poor little thing—without a father!”
They did not mind his crying, they were convinced
in a way that babies always cried, and when
you considered everything, he was quite a big boy
for his age. If he had only possessed a father, all
would have been well, it seemed.
The mother lay and listened to them and wondered.
This view of it suddenly grew to be of vast
importance. How would the poor little thing get
through life at all without a father?
She had made her plans before. She would remain
at the farm for the first year; then she would
hire a room somewhere and earn her living by
weaving. She intended to make enough to feed and
clothe the child herself. Her husband might
continue to believe that she was unworthy to be his
wife. She thought that perhaps the baby would
grow up to be a better man if he was brought up by
her than if a stupid, conceited father educated him.
But now the child was born, she could not see
things in the same light. It seemed to her she had
been selfish. “The child must have a father,” she
said to herself.
If it had not been so miserably weak, if it could
have eaten and slept like other babies, if its head
had not always hung so limply on its shoulder, and
if it had not always been so near death every time
it had a cramp, the question would not have been
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