SPRING COMES

One morning when Ivra woke up she knew spring had come before her eyes were open. But Eric had to go outdoors to make sure. He was sure enough when he smelled the ground, a good earth smell. Snow still clung to the garden in spots here and there, but the warm sun promised it would not be for long. Something in the sky, something in the air, a smell of earth, and a stirring in his own heart told him it was true. Spring had come!

Ivra had felt and known it before her eyes were open, and now that they were open, those eyes of hers looked like two blue spring flowers just awake. She hopped about in the garden poking and prodding the earth with a stick, looking for her violets, her anémones, her star flowers. Not a green leaf was pushing through yet, but oh, how soon there would be!

Suddenly she stopped and stood still looking away into the forest. Then she ran to Eric on the door stone. She cried, “Mother will come now. Don’t you feel it? She will come with the spring!”

Eric did feel it. For there was magic in the day. The magic came to him in the air, in the smell of the earth, in the new warm wind and said, “Everything is yours that you want. Joy is coming.” And Mother Helma was what he wanted. So he felt sure she was on the way.

“She must have found the key, or do you suppose she climbed the gray wall?” wondered Ivra.

“Shall we go to meet her?” asked Eric.

“No, no. We must get the house clean and ready for her. We must hurry.”

And then such a house-cleaning was begun as you or I have never seen. The Forest Children had been up at dawn to greet the spring, and now they came running to tell Ivra and Eric about it. When they heard that Helma was at last coming back and the house was to be cleaned they wanted to help. First it was decided to wash the floor. Pail after pail of water from the fountain they splashed on it. Streamlets of water flowed into the fireplace and out over the door stone. Out and in ran the Forest Children trying to help, and with every step making foot prints on the wet floor, muddy little foot prints, dozens of them and finally hundreds of them.

Then the windows were washed. And because the Forest Children could not run on those they were made bright and clear. But soon the Forest Children pressed their faces against the panes to watch for Helma, and as the minutes passed breath-clouds formed there, spreading and deepening until the glass sparkled no more. But no one noticed. No one cared. For now they were shining up the dishes, polishing them with cloths, and setting them in neat rows in the cupboard.

Then Wild Star appeared, his hands full of spring flowers that he had found deep in the forest in the sunniest and most protected place, the very first spring flowers. “Helma must have gotten past that wall, now it’s spring,” he said; “and here are some flowers to greet her. See, I left the roots on, the way she likes them. Let’s plant them by the door stone.”

They dug up the earth with their hands, Forest Children’s hands, Wild Star’s hands, Eric’s and Ivra’s, and planted the flowers all about the door stone. Then Wild Star flew away a little languidly.

Ivra looked after him. “He’ll soon find the deepest, darkest, coolest place,” she said, “make himself a nest of smooth leaves and dream away the summer. Fall and winter are his flying times. We shall see him at no more parties for a while.”

“And the Snow Witches? What will become of them?” asked Eric.

“They will get into hollows of old trees and under rocks, draw in their skirts and their hair, curl up and sleep.”

“Good news!” thought Eric. But he did not say it for he knew Ivra liked the Snow Witches almost best of all to play with and would miss them.

Now the Tree Girl came through the gap in the hedge. She was wearing a green frock, green sandals, and pussy willow buds made a wreath in her hair.

“Spring, spring!” she cried as she came up the path. “We heard the sap running in our tree all night. Father has gone on a spring wandering, and I shall stay within tree no longer for a while.”

“We know, we know!” crowed Ivra. “I knew before my eyes were open this morning. Eric had to smell the ground first. Imagine! We have been cleaning house. Mother will surely come now. Don’t you feel it?”

The Tree Girl lifted her face up in the new warm wind. Her soft hair floated feather-like. “Yes, I feel it. She is on the way. Spring brings everything.”

A bird flashed from the trees. It lighted on the hedge for a second and was away again. But Eric had had time to recognize the beautiful bird he had seen caged in the Witch’s fir.

“The caged bird!” he cried to Ivra. “It is free! It is flying away.”

The Bird Fairies were flying away, too. They were going to meet the birds corning up from the south and teach them their songs as they flew. They came to say good-by to the children.

“Look for us next winter,” they called back, as they fluttered off in a silvery cloud.

And finally, at high noon, just as Ivra had known she would since early morning, Helma came, running through the forest, jumping the hedge, and gathering Ivra and Eric into her arms.

They three knelt on the ground by the spring flowers embracing each other for a long, long minute.

“Did you find the key to that gate?” Eric asked when his breath came back, “Or did they let you come at last.”

“I didn’t have to find the key, and they didn’t let me come. They would never have done that. But the minute I had on a light spring frock I found I could climb the wall easily enough, and so I came running all the way. And now they shall never get me back behind doors again. I am free! I am as free as you, my children!”

She held them off and looked into their eyes.

She was dressed in a brown silk gown, all torn and stained from her wall-climbing and rush through the bushes. Her feet were bare, for she had kicked off her funny high-heeled city boots the minute she had reached the forest. Her hair had grown to her shoulders and looked more like flower petals than ever. But her face was not brown and serene, as Eric had first seen it. It was pale and wild.

“They don’t believe in you, children,” she said. “They don’t believe in me, not the me that I am. And from morning to night they made me a slave. They made me wear such ugly, hurting things, and then they made me dance! Every night we danced in hot rooms and ate strange bad-tasting food. They called dancing like that a party. But I could only remember our forest parties, and our dancing here under the cool moon.

“The only glimpse of the forest I had was your Snow Witches, Ivra. Sometimes I saw them from my bedroom window, ’way out in the fields, whirling and scudding in mad games. And then at last one morning some Wind Creatures flew by, above the garden wall! But when I called Wild Star back and tried to ask him about you, children, as he perched on the wall, they came rushing into the garden and dragged me away. They said it was time for luncheon, and I must change my frock. But let us forget. I am here! It is spring!”

She jumped up and stood just as the Tree Girl had stood earlier that morning, her face lifted in the wind. Slowly that face grew calm and warm color flooded it.

“How nicely cleaned the house is!” she exclaimed when at last they went in. For she did not see the tracks on the floor nor the clouded windows. All she saw was that the children had worked there to make it fit for her home-coming.

Ivra was proud and glad that she noticed. “I have made you a spring frock too,” she said, bringing it out. “And Eric has made you some sandals. He makes fine sandals now!”

The frock was a brown smock with a narrow green belt.

The sandals were well made, and very soft and light.

Helma stripped off the tattered silk frock, the funny thing with its long sleeves and stiff lace collar, and hid it away out of sight. On went the new smock over her head in a twinkling. She stepped into the sandals. And there was their mother, the Helma Eric had first seen.

“The garden now, we must see about that,” she said in her old quiet way. Then they went out into the garden, and Helma began to plan just where there should plant seeds and just what must be done. The children clung to her hands, looking up into her face, and would not let her take a step away from them. When she stood still they leaned against her, one against either side, and wound their arms about her.

In mid-afternoon, Spring came not the spring of the year, but Spring himself, the person the season is named for. He was a tall young man, with a radiant face, and fair curls lifting in a cloud from his head. Where he walked the earth sprang up in green grass after his bare feet, and flowers followed him like a procession. Helma ran to him, swifter than the children, and he kissed her lips. He lifted Ivra nigh on his shoulder for one minute where she thought she looked away over the treetops hundreds of miles to the blue ocean. But it may have been only his eyes, which were very blue, that shee was looking into.

With him came two Earth Giants. They were huge brown fellows with rolling muscles and kind, sleepy eyes. They crouched down at the opening in the hedge and waited for Spring to go on with them.

“Shall we plant the garden, Helma?” asked Spring.

“Yes, yes,” cried the children, and Helma said, “Yes, yes,” as eagerly as they.

So the Earth Giants came in and plowed it all up with their hands, hands twenty times as large as an Earth Man’s! When they were done, the garden was a rich golden color, and right for planting. Then Helma pointed out to Spring where she wanted the seeds to be, violets here, roses there, lilies there, pansies there and daisies there. Spring gave some seeds to the children and sowed some himself. Helma sat on the door stone and joyously directed the work.

By twilight the garden was done, and Spring went away with his Earth Giants.

As he went out through the forest, flowers and green grass followed him and the next morning even the dullest Earth Person would know that Spring had come.

As for Helma and Ivra and Eric, the house would not hold their joy, and so they dragged out their beds and slept that night in the new-plowed, sweet-smelling garden.