But our baggage had disappeared.

Some one had made off with our precious feather beds! This was the first real tragedy of my mother's life.

All the joy of setting foot in the new land was turned to dismay.

The stored-up pleasure with which she awaited the greeting of her husband was dashed in a moment, like sweet water flung upon the ground.

When I saw the anguish in my mother's face, I was sobered to life's responsibilities.
The song had died out of her heart, and I must make it sing again.