Martha, looking
after the child, could always see the fearful looking hair that so
strangely disfigured the little girl's pretty face. Then she would
sigh deeply and would say to herself: It seems like a disease, but who
can help her? Oh, if our blessed lady had seen her child so terribly
disfigured!
Cornelli was very much surprised when she found that Saturday evening
had come again, for the last two weeks had flown by very fast.
She ran through the garden. Under the plum tree lay the last fully
ripened dark gold plums. Cornelli picked them up; they were really
splendid, but they had given her no pleasure that year. She took them
with her and put them on Martha's table.
"Oh, what fine yellow plums! I am sure they taste as sweet as honey,"
exclaimed Dino. "Are they from your garden? When the sun shines on
them in the morning, all the branches seem to sparkle with reddish
gold like a Christmas tree."
"Yes, they are from the tree. Do you want to eat them?" asked Cornelli.
"With pleasure. But you must eat some, too," said Dino.
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