It was dark in the room. Grandmother had drawn the curtains, lest the morning sun should awake the kids too early.

The clock struck eleven. Jorma would not have known, but Hedi told him. Jorma had a very clever sister, she always knew everything. It was very seldom that she couldn't explain something he wanted to know. But then one person isn't supposed to know everything.

"Hedi, is the flea as terrible as the snake?"

It was time for the boy to fall asleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Jorma recalled all the happenings of that long and at the same time so short day, and each happening raised a question.

The pillow rustled—Hedi was shaking her head.

"The flea bites just a bit, it's so small."

"Then we needn't be afraid of the flea! And it eats grass too, doesn't it?"

The pillow rustled again and Hedi sounded rather bored as she said,

"No, what makes you think so?"

"Didn't you show me fleagrass in the yard yesterday?"

"Oh, you're mixing up everything! Fleabane is just the name of a plant. I told you so. And it was this morning, not yesterday."

"Do the fir-trees wear fur coats in winter?"

"No, they don't need any fur coats."

"Why can't I sing the way the oriole does?"

"You aren't a bird, that's why."

"I don't sit in the tree either. I'm not yellow either," Jorma added sadly.

Jorma didn't want to be yellow, but to sit high up in a tree and whistle beautifully—that would be great!

"But, Hedi, you might take the butterfly home if Granny allows. We don't have any butterflies at home."

"It'll fall to pieces as soon as we touch it... But now let's be quiet, you know, or Daddy'll be cross with us."

Of course Jorma knew that. Children are always forbidden to talk in bed, they have to sleep, or they won't get grown, they'll remain small for good... But there was one more problem which wouldn't allow him to go to sleep. It troubled him, it haunted him, and yet it slipped away, hid itself behind other thoughts.

"Hedi, do you think Daddy knows that Grandpa's name is Eevalt?"

Hedi made no answer. That meant that Jorma shouldn't ask more questions. And the boy stopped quiet. He mused,

"The piglets aren't given names at all... "

When he said this, he caught the distressing thought,

"Hedi, the children aren't killed when they grow up, are they?"

"No," said Hedi. Then she said somewhat hastily,

"Tomorrow let's ask Mummy and Daddy to stay on the beach very-very long, and we'll ask Margus to make another ship. And... in the morning we'll go to the brook to look at the water-fleas, okay?"

"What... water... ?"

And with these words Jorma fell asleep. As soon as the dreadful thought was gone there was nothing that could prevent him from falling asleep. The moment the silver-eyed brook appeared before his eyes he jumped at its back and let himself be carried into a greenish-brown dimness.

Hedi remained alone.

She, too, had let the long day slip past her eyes and found it to have been beautiful. But it makes one sad to see a fine day come to an end. And why is it so that everything is bound to pass after all.

It was better not to think of it. Better to think that tomorrow comes a new day, with new experiences, then comes the day after tomorrow... And all of them—Mother and Father, Hedi and Jorma—they have time to see and do a great deal. What places they'd go to! To pick berries in the pasture, to the cattlefarm to see aunt Marie... Perhaps Grandfather would even take Hedi to the sea in his boat... For tomorrow to come, today must come to an end. Father had explained it to her more than once. And that was the way things were.

And yet it was a pity to lose something beautiful.

Hedi couldn't put up with the idea.

"But!" Hedi made a breath-taking discovery—it wasn't in vain that Father called her a bright little girl—a discovery so great that her face lit up with joy and she smiled with pleasure. "I'll store everything in my mind! I can bear in my mind and remember a worldful of butterflies, a worldful of people, a worldful of blue glass vases. And there would be no need to throw out the old ones to make room for the new ones, there'll be enough room for all. And the outgoing day will be stored in my memory for good, no matter how many new days may follow. The important thing is not to forget the beautiful things. Remember them... Cherish them...

With this she fell asleep.

Jason Ladock

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