Page - 151 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

meant medicine. The patient, as they admitted behind her back, had had a stroke; she was languishing. But, when the cool autumn came, she grew better: she now no longer lay in bed by day, but sat on the bench by the fire or at the table, where the children played, or by the hearth, where she instructed clumsy father in the art of cooking. She was not cheerful, nor was she cast down; she took things as they came and did not complain: only, between whiles, when she was alone, she heaved a deep sigh. Thus winter passed. The delightful Whitsuntide came again and mother was ill. At this festival, the old woman from the Riegelberg came to see us and brought a few rolls with her. She suggested all sorts of household remedies and reckoned up a number of hale and hearty people who had become hale and hearty through taking the aforesaid remedies. And at last she asked, hadn’t we been to Stegthomerl—Tom of the Footpath—yet? No, we confessed, we had not been to him as yet. Then how could we have been so remiss and however could we have neglected to go to Tom of the Footpath? He was the very first to whom one ought to send in that sort of illness! But it was such a distance to get there, father objected. “And, if it was a three days’ journey, it is not too far for health’s sake.” “That’s very true, I grant you: it would not be too far for health,” said father. “And think you, Riegelbergerin, that he could cure her?” “Curing, my dear woodman, is in God’s hands,” answered the woman from the Riegelberg, with her wonted superiority. “Even the best doctors cannot work miracles. But he knows, does Tom of the Footpath, and he’ll tell you whether a cure is still possible or not.” The very next day, a messenger was sent over the mountains to the valley where Tom of the Footpath lived. He went off early and he came home late and he brought the answer that Tom of the Footpath had said he could say nothing at all as long as he did not see the invalid for himself. The next day, another messenger went off (for the first had gone lame on the long road) to fetch Tom of the Footpath. He came back late at night alone and brought the news that Tom of the Footpath didn’t visit patients: Thomas himself was not as young as he had been; also he did not wish to be locked up again because the qualified doctors suffered from an infernal professional jealousy and wanted to bury everybody themselves. If the sick woodman’s wife cared to come to him, there might be something to be done. But he did not go running after sick people. This was manfully spoken, after all, and we all of us understood that a man