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she would not have; she wanted her own. They were obliged to let her
take them and to make her lay the new ones on the grave. Anders thought:
This is not like her mother.

The attempt was repeated. Mother's grave was to have fresh flowers every
day, and Marit was to lay them there. Anders divided the flowers into
two bunches; he carried the one and she the other. She was to leave hers
and have his to take home again. But this plan succeeded no better;
indeed, worse; for when they were ready to leave the churchyard, she
insisted that he, too, should take his flowers back with him. He was
obliged to give in to her. Next day he tried something different. She
carried flowers to her mother's grave, and he gave her sweets to induce
her to let them lie there. Yes, she would give up the flowers in
exchange for the sweets, which she put into her mouth. But when they
were ready to go, she was determined to have the flowers too. He was
quite cast down.

It then occurred to him to tell her that Mother was cold; Marit must
cover her up. She thereupon proposed that Mother should come home to her
own bed. Her father had told her that the empty bed beside his was
Mother's; now she constantly asked if Mother were not coming soon. She
could not come, he said; she must lie out there in the cold. This
produced the desired effect. Marit herself spread the flowers over the
grave and let them lie. On the way home she repeated several times:
"Mother is not cold now."

Anders wondered what she understood by "Mother." He wished her to be
able to recognise her mother's portraits, but before showing her them,
exercised her eye with pictures of animals and things. From these he
proceeded to photographs of his sister, of himself, and of others whom
she knew. When she was quite familiar with them, he produced the
earliest photograph of her mother. There was no difficulty; she was
shown several, and quickly learned to distinguish them from all others.
In the afternoon, when she had been laid down to sleep, she asked to
have "Mother" in her arms. Anders did not understand immediately, and
she became impatient. Then he brought the first photograph of her
mother. She took it at once, clasped it in her arms, and fell asleep.
Not until she was four years old, and saw a mother in the kitchen
tending her sick child, was he sure that she understood what a mother
is; for then she said: "Why doesn't my mother come and undress me and
dress me?"

In the