Brave Irene

By William Steig
rs. Bobbin, the dressmaker, was tired and had a

Bad headache, but she still managed to sew the last
Stiches in the gown she was making. “It´s the most
beautiful dress in the world” said her daughter Irene, “the duchess will
Besides it´s starting to snow”. “But I love snow” Irene insisted. She
coaxed her mother into bed, covered her with two quilts and added a
blanket for the feet. Then she fixed some tea with lemon and honey and
put more wood in the stove.
With great care, Irene took the splendid gown down from the dummy
and packed it in a big box with plenty of tissue paper.
“Dress warmly, pudding” her mother called in a weak voice “and don´t
forget to button up. It´s cold out there and windy”.
Irene put on her fleece-lined boots, her red hat and muffler, her heavy
coat and her mittens, she kissed her mother´s hot forehead six times,
then once again, made sure she was tucked in snugly, and slipped out
with the big box, shutting the door firmly behind her. It really was cold
outside, very cold. The wind whirled the falling snow-flakes about, this
way, that way, and into Irene´s squinting face. She set out on the uphill
path to Farmer Bennett´s sheep pasture.
By the time she got there, the snow was up to her ankles and the wind
was worse. It hurried her along and made her stumble. Irene resented
this, the box was problema enough, “easy does it” she cautioned the
wind, leaning back hard against it. By the middle of the pasture, the
flakes were falling thicker, now the wind drove Irene along so rudely
she had to hop, skip and go helter-skeltering over the knobby ground,
cold, snow sifted into her boots and chilled her feet. She pushed out her
lip and hurried on. This was an important errand.
When she reached Apple Road, the wind decided to put on a show. It
ripped branches from trees and flung them about, swept up and
scattered the fallen snow, got in front of Irene to keep her from moving
ahead. Irene turned around and pressed on backwards “go home” the
wind squalled “Irene, go home”. “I will do no such thing” she snapped.
“No such thing, you wicked wind”. “Go home” the wind yodelled, go
home” it shrieked “or else”. For a short second, Irene wondered if she
shouldn´t heed the wind´s warning but no! the gown had to get to the
duchess!.
tissue-paper attendants.
Irene clung to the empty box and watched the beautiful gown disappear
How could anything so terribly wrong be allowed to happen? tears froze
on her lashes, her dear mother´s hard work, all those days of measuring,
cutting, pinning, stiching… for this? and the poor duchess!. Irene
decided she would have to trudge on with just the box and explain
everything in person.
She went shuffling through the snow, would her mother understand she
wondered, that it was the wind´s fault, not hers? Would the duchess be
angry?. The wind was howling like a wild animal. Suddenly Irene
stepped in a hole and fell over with a twisted ankle. She blamed it on
the wind. “Keep quiet!” she scolded “You have done enough damage
already. You´ve spoiled everything!” the wind swallowed up her words.
She sat in the snow in great pain, afraid she wouldn´t be able to go on,
but she managed to get to her feet and start moving. It hurt. Home,
where she longed to be, where she and her mother could be warm
together, was far behind. It´s got to be closer to the palace, she thought,
but where any place was in all this snow, she couldn´t be sure. She
plowed on, dragging furrows with her sore foot. The short winter day
was almost done, am I still going the right way? She wondered. There
was no one around to advise her.
Whoever else there was in this snow-covered world was far, far away,
and safe indoors- even the animals in their burrows. She went plodding
on.
Soon night took over. She knew in the dark that the muffled snow was
still falling- she could feel it. She was cold and alone in the middle of
nowhere. Irene was lost. She had to keep moving, she was hoping, she´d
Come to a house, any house at all, and be taken in.
She badly needed to be in somenone´s arms. The snow was above her
knees now. She shoved her way through it, clutching the empty box. She
was asking how long a small person could keep this struggle up, when
she realized it was getting lighter. There was a soft glow coming from
somewhere below her. She waded toward this glow and soon was
gazing down a long slope at a brightly lit mansion. It had to be the
palace!. Irene pushed forward with all her strength and –sloosh! She
plunged downward and was buried. She had fallen off a little cliff. Only
her hat and the box in her hands stuck out above the snow. Even if she
could call for help, no one would hear her. Her body shook, her teeth
chattered why not freeze to death, she thought, and let all these
troubles end, why not?. She was already buried and never see her
mother´s face again? Her good mother who smelled like fresh-baked
bread?. In an explosion of fury, she flung her body about to free herself
and was finally able to clim up on her knees and look around how to get
down to that glittering palace?. As soon as she raised the question, she
had the answer, she laid the box down and climbed aboard but it
pressed into the snow and stuck. She tried again, and this time, instead
of climbing on, she leaped. The box shot forward, like a sled, the wind
raced after Irene but couldn´t keep up. In a moment she would be with
people again, inside where it was warm. The sled slowed and jerked to
a stop on paving stones, the time had come to break the bad news to her
chest. Irene strode nervously toward the palace, but then her feet
stopped moving and her mouth fell open. She stared. Maybe this was
imposible, yet there it was, a little way off and over to the right,
hugging the trunk of a tree- the beautiful ball gown!. The wind was
Holding it there “Mama” Irene shouted “Mama I found it”, she
managed somehow, despite the wind´s meddling, to get the gown off the
tree and back in its box and in another moment she was at the door of
the palace.
She knocked twice with the big brass knocker. The door opened and she
burst in. She was welcomed by cheering servants and a delirous
duchess, they couldn´t believe she had come over the mountain in such
a storm all by herself. She had to tell the whole story, every detail and
she did. Then she asked to be taken right back to her sick mother but it
was out of the question, they said; the road that ran around the
mountain wouldn´t be cleared until morning. “Don´t fret child” said the
duchess “your mother is surely sleeping, we´ll get you there first thing
tomorrow”.
Irene was given a good dinner as she sat by the fire, the moisture
steaming off her clothes. The duchess meanwhile got into her freshly
ironed gown before the guests began arriving in their sleighs what a
wonderful ball it was! The duchess in her new gown was like a bright
star in the sky. Irene in her ordinary dress was radiant, she was swept
up into dances by handsome aristocrats who kept her feet off the floor
to spare her ankle. Her mother would enjoy hearing all about it.
Early the next morning, when snow had long since ceased falling, Mrs.
Bobbin woke from a good night´s sleep feeling much improved. She
hurried about and got a fire going in the cold stove. Then she went to
look in on Irene, but Irene´s bed was empty!. She ran to the window
and gazed at the white landscape. No one out there. Snow powder fell
from the branch of a tree “where is my child?” Mrs. Bobbin cried. She
whipped on her coat to go out and find her when she pulled the door
open, a wall of drift faced her, but peering over it, she could see a
horse-drawn sleigh hastening up the path and seated on the sleigh,
between two large footmen, was Irene herself, asleep but smiling.
would you like to hear the rest? Well, there was a bearded doctor in the
back of the sleigh and the duchess had sent Irene´s mother a ginger
cake with white icing, some oranges and a pineapple, and spice candy of
many flavors along with a note saying how much she cherished her gown
and what a brave and loving person Irene was which, of course, Mrs.
Bobbin knew better than the duchess.

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By William Steig

rs. Bobbin, the dressmaker, was tired and had a

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