“Wait for me there in the park,” he said to the child, giving it a push in the direction.
And the little fellow went on obediently, until, just at the gate, he caught sight of a costermonger’s barrow on which cool green leaves and ripe red strawberries were temptingly displayed. Frithiof lingered a minute to see what would happen, but nothing happened at all, the child just stood there patiently. There was no expectation on his tired little face, nothing but intense appreciation of a luxury which must forever be beyond his hopes of enjoyment.
“Have you ever tasted them?” said Frithiof, drawing nearer.
Still he did not speak, but a look of rapture dawned in the wistful child eyes, and he gave a little spring in the air which was more eloquent than words.
“Six-pennyworth,” said Frithiof to the costermonger; then signing to the child to follow, he led the way into the park, sat down on the nearest seat, put the basket of strawberries down beside him, and glanced at his little companion.
“There, now, sit down by me and enjoy them,” he said.
And the child needed no second bidding, but began to eat with an eager delight which was pleasant to see. After awhile he paused, however, and shyly pushed the basket a little nearer to his benefactor. Frithiof, absorbed in his own thoughts, did not notice it, but presently became conscious of a small brown hand on his sleeve, and looked round.
“Eat too,” said the child, pointing to the basket.
And Frithiof, to please him, smiled and took two or three strawberries.
“There, the rest are for you,” he said. “Do you like them?”
“Yes,” said the child emphatically; “and I like you.”
“I was tired, and you was kind to me, and these is real jammy!”
But after this fervent little speech, he said no more. He did not, as a Norwegian child would have done, shake hands as a sign of gratitude, or say in the pretty Norse way, “_Tak for maden_” (thanks for the meal); there had never been any one to teach him the expression of the courtesies of life, and with him they were not innate. He merely looked at his friend with shining eyes like some animal that feels but cannot speak its gratitude. Then before long the father reappeared, and the little fellow with one shy nod of the head ran off, looking back wistfully every now and then at the stranger who would be remembered by him to the very end of his life.