But father Sami said perhaps he was hungry, for since the evening before
no one had paid any attention to the little baby. This seemed to the
sympathetic Mary Ann quite too cruel, and she realised that if she didn't
care for the poor little mite it would die. She wrapped him up again
carefully in his blanket, but not around his head, and carried him
upright on her arm, not under it, as one carries a bundle. Then she ran
all around her room to collect milk, a dish and fire together, so that
the starving little creature might have some nourishment. As she sat on
her stool, and the little one eagerly sipped the milk, while his tiny
little hand tightly clasped his grandmother's forefinger like a
life-preserver, she said, greatly touched:

"Yes, indeed, you little Sami, you poor little orphan, I will do what I
can for you and the dear Lord will not forsake us."

And to the big Sami she said:

"I will keep him, but don't take any rash steps! In the first great
sorrow many a one does what he later regrets. See, you can't run away
from sorrow, it runs with you. Stay and bear what the dear Lord sends. He
is not angry with you. Hold to him still in time of sorrow, then the sun
will shine tomorrow! It will be the same with you as it has been with so
many others." Sami had listened in silence, but like one who does not
understand what he hears.

"Good night, mother! May God reward you for what you do for the boy," he
said then, after wiping his eyes again. Then he pressed his mother's
hand, and went out of the door.