A LITTLE GIRL WITH A BABY REINDEERA LITTLE GIRL WITH A BABY REINDEER
A LITTLE GIRL WITH A BABY REINDEER
The Baron was chatting with a guest from Kiruna (chee ro͝on´ȧ). They were discussing the iron mines of that province. Eriksighed with relief. The Baron had not recognized his voice.
Greta was talking with the wealthy banker who had arrived yesterday in a shiny automobile. He lived in the city of Stockholm, which is the capital of Sweden.
Greta was telling how she had taught Erik to sing, and how, too, she had often taught him his lessons when the heavy storms of winter had prevented him from going to school. They had become close friends.
The banker said, "The little boy has a beautiful voice. I should like to hear more of his singing."
Then he spoke of his love for music and of the fine operas he had heard at the Stockholm Opera House. And, all of a sudden, a chill shot through Erik, for the banker added, "Of all the operas, I like 'The Valkyrie' best."
He liked "The Valkyrie" best! Oh, now Greta would surely ask Erik to sing "The Cry of the Valkyries."
Erik started to tiptoe out of the room. If he could only disappear without being seen! He reached the door, and no one had noticed him. Just one more step, and he would beout of sight. His heart pounded; he cautiously lifted his foot, when, "Erik!" called Greta. "Come back!"
He returned to Greta's side.
"Herr Banker," she said, "wishes to hear you sing 'The Cry of the Valkyries.'"
Erik's stomach turned a somersault. He saw the Baron's watery eyes upon him. The guests had stopped talking and settled themselves for more entertainment. A fussy little lady from Hälsingland (hĕl´sĭng-länd), a province of rivers and forests, clapped her hands delightedly.
Erik began. "Hoyotoho! Hoyotoho!"
Suddenly the Baron stood up; his face was gray. Everyone turned to look at him.
"Hoyotoho! Hoyotoho!" Erik was shrieking as loudly as he could shriek.
"HOYOTOHO! HOYOTOHO!" ERIK WAS SHRIEKING"HOYOTOHO! HOYOTOHO!" ERIK WAS SHRIEKING
"HOYOTOHO! HOYOTOHO!" ERIK WAS SHRIEKING
"Hush, Erik!" Greta had stopped playing and had turned around.
The Baron shouted, "That is the voice!That is the voice I heard in the night."
Everyone now stared at Erik, but nobody except Greta and her mother knew what theBaron was talking about. Fru Hansson arose. In her proudly determined way, she walked over to where Erik stood beside the organ.
"Was it you, child, who sang at night and disturbed Baron von Engstrom?" she asked.
Erik's pleading glance sought Greta's face. But Greta appeared to be having a difficult time to keep from bursting into laughter. And what a dreadful thing that would have been! So she said nothing, and Erik answered, "Yes, Fru Hansson, it was."
"You see! You see!" cried the Baron shrilly. "I told you that I heard horrible noises, and I am never wrong. My nerves are so sensitive that the doctor says—"
"Why did you do this, Erik?" asked Fru Hansson. "You must have known that it was wrong to sing at such an unearthly hour of the night."
But now Greta came to Erik's rescue.
"The peasants," she said, "believe that Hanssonborg is haunted. Erik was playing ghost. It was only a boyish prank." She turned to Erik and laughed with a wicked sparkle in her blue eyes, "But you should have known, Erik, that intelligent people do not believe in ghosts."
The Baron said, "Glumph!" and sat down with a thud. Erik saw him pull a box out of his pocket and hurriedly swallow a pill.
Fru Hansson frowned severely. "You shall be punished, Erik," she said. "Such pranks are not amusing. Now go home to your parents, and tomorrow I shall speak to your father about this."
"Please, Fru Hansson!" It was the banker from Stockholm speaking. "Please forgive the child. After the pleasure he has given us here tonight with his singing, we should not be hard on him."
THE OPERA HOUSE IN STOCKHOLMTHE OPERA HOUSE IN STOCKHOLM
THE OPERA HOUSE IN STOCKHOLM
He turned to Erik. "Listen, my boy," hecontinued. "Will you promise me that you will never sing again to annoy people, but only to make them happy?"
"Yes, Herr Banker," murmured Erik.
"And will you also promise to sing again for me some day?" The banker smiled and put out his big hand.
Erik's small one slid into it. "Oh, yes, HerrBanker," he said, "with the greatest of pleasure."
As Erik made his way out of the room, he did not like the satisfied smile on the Baron's face.
Even less would he have liked the Baron's thoughts, had he been able to read them. For Baron Karl was telling himself that, since Hanssonborg was not haunted, there was no reason why he should not become its master. He determined then and there to ask Greta to marry him.
A TENT SCHOOL IN LAPLANDA TENT SCHOOL IN LAPLAND
A TENT SCHOOL IN LAPLAND
Erik's family rose early on Christmas morning and went to church. On the way back, they stopped at the cottages along the way to drink with the peasants and to wish them a merry Christmas.
A COTTAGE IN WINTER
Erik stood at the window of his home as Greta and the Baron drove up in their open sleigh. They sat together bundled up in fur robes, and only the tip of the Baron's pointed nose showed. It was crimson.
As soon as they were inside the house, the Baron sneezed. Erik's mother had to fetch him hot water, and Erik's father had to heap the already blazing fire with more logs.
The Baron shivered and complained thewhole time they were there. Erik saw Nils look at Greta, and when Greta caught his eye, she blushed. After they had left, Erik's thoughts were black.
For the next few weeks there was, Erik knew, no hope that the Baron would leave Hanssonborg. The days were full of jollity and feasting, and many visitors arrived.
Of course Erik could do nothing to hasten the Baron's departure. He had given his promise to Herr Banker that he would never again sing to annoy people.
Finally on January thirteenth, Christmas was "danced out," and the guests began to leave. Erik prayed that the Baron would be one of those to go. But each day he heard that the Baron had stayed on.
Vacation was over, and now Erik had to rise in the darkness of early morning in order to be on time at the village school.
SWEDISH SCHOOL CHILDREN PLAYING INDIANSSWEDISH SCHOOL CHILDREN PLAYING INDIANS
SWEDISH SCHOOL CHILDREN PLAYING INDIANS
It was Saturday, which is the same as anyother week day in Sweden. So Erik was skiing to school, when all at once he heard his name called and he looked around. There was Greta, skiing to meet him. As she approached, he saw that her face was pale, and it seemed to Erik that she had been crying.
"You are up early," he told her.
"I want to talk with you, Erik," she said. "We've not had a chance to be together for ever so long."
Why was she out alone this early in the morning? What had happened?
She answered his unspoken questions. "The Baron Karl has asked me to marry him, Erik."
Erik stopped so abruptly that he came near falling headlong. The color faded from his rosy cheeks, and his eyes became two wide, blue stars.
"But you will refuse!" he cried.
He thought of his brother Nils. He thought of the great sorrow that this was going to cause Nils. Then he thought of the Baron, who was a gnome and a weakling and must never be master of Hanssonborg.
"You will surely refuse him!" he repeated.
Greta smiled with a sad little twist of her mouth.
"Perhaps I cannot, little Erik," she replied.
As they continued on their way, she explained to Erik why she might be obliged toaccept the Baron's offer of marriage. She explained to him that her mother was threatened with the loss of Hanssonborg.
"And we could never bear to give up our home," she finished simply.
Erik could well understand this. "Home," like many other words, came to the English language from the Swedish. The Swedes build homes, and not just houses. Their dwellings are not mere objects of brick and wood, but are living parts of themselves.
Perhaps this is because so much time must be spent indoors when the long winter months are mostly made of night.
No, Greta and her mother could never give up Hanssonborg. Yet, on the other hand, Greta must never be forced to marry the Baron. Something must be done.
Erik's head was in a whirl. That day at school he declared that six times nine was seventy. He answered his German teacherin French, his English teacher in German, and his French teacher in Swedish.
At bathing time, when the pupils had to scrub one another from head to foot, he poured a tub of water over his chum's head and nearly drowned the lad. Then he got soap in his own eyes and howled with pain.
There can be no nonsense about education in Sweden. Boys and girls are supposed to work seriously in school, and the result is that everyone in the country knows how to read and write.
So Erik was punished. He was given so much written homework that he decided to be careful of his behavior in the future.
The Baron left Hanssonborg at last. But Greta told Erik that he was coming back again. He would return in the spring, when he hoped that Greta would announce their engagement.
Usually the spring was awaited with eagerness.It marks the end of dark, bleak, wintry days. But Erik did not look forward to this particular spring. He almost dreaded it. For he could not forget that with the flowers and bird songs would also come the Baron.
Nevertheless, when Easter vacation arrived, Erik could not help welcoming it. He could not help being excited on St. Walpurgis(väl po͝or´gḗs) Eve, when fires were lighted on the hills and the young people sang.
HAPPY CHILDREN IN THE PROVINCE OF DALECARLIAHAPPY CHILDREN IN THE PROVINCE OF DALECARLIA
HAPPY CHILDREN IN THE PROVINCE OF DALECARLIA
At daybreak, Greta and Nils, with Erik half asleep on his shoulder, wandered toward home, happy and tired. They stopped at the big house, and Nils said, "Good-bye, Greta."
He touched her hand very gently, and she answered, "Good-bye, Nils."
Then she looked down at the earth where some tiny, sharp, green tulip leaves were pushing their way upward.
"Spring is here," she said, when suddenly Erik let out a piercing shriek.
"And the Baron is here, too!" he cried. "Just look."
Sure enough, Baron von Engstrom's elegant car was standing before the door of Hanssonborg.
From that time on, Erik saw little of Greta. But one day his mother sent him over toHanssonborg on an errand, and he stopped to chat with Fru Svenson and to see what she was cooking.
He left the kitchen with a blouse full of cookies and the news that the Baron was ill in bed.
"What a very bad-tempered gentleman the Baron is!" Fru Svenson had exclaimed. "Always complaining and never satisfied!"
Returning home, Erik walked through the forest. A lark sang, and he stopped to answer. Snow still lay under the pines, but one felt the stirring restlessness beneath the earth, as of plants and roots asking to live.
At the shore of the lake, Nils was painting a rowboat and Greta was with him. Erik watched the sunbeams dancing on her golden hair as they danced upon the glistening water.
Greta was reading aloud to Nils. She was reading to him about the business of a marketgarden. It was the study that Nils liked best. She had often helped him with it before the Baron's arrival.
How happy they looked together, and how handsome, too! Like a god and a goddess in Norse mythology.
Erik approached. Greta closed the book and arose.
"I must go back to the house now," she said. "Will you walk a way with me, Erik?"
Nils stood up, too, and wiped his paint-smeared hands on his working overalls. He said nothing, but Erik could see the suffering in his face.
Oh, why didn't he tell Greta how much he longed to marry her? Erik felt sure that she would gladly give up the Baron for brave, strong Nils! Why was he such a fool?
Yet Erik realized that he was only a little boy; he could not know the ways of grownfolks, so he was silent as he walked beside Greta.
She took his hand and squeezed it and he looked up into her face. She was crying.Then, all at once, she sank down upon a stump and hid her face in her arms.
"Oh, little Erik," she sobbed, "what shall I do?"
"OH, LITTLE ERIK, WHAT SHALL I DO?""OH, LITTLE ERIK, WHAT SHALL I DO?"
"OH, LITTLE ERIK, WHAT SHALL I DO?"
Erik put his hand on her shoulder and wondered what to say. It made him feel strange and small to have a grown person turn to him like this. It was almost as though he were the older of the two.
If he only were a man! He would be a banker and help Fru Hansson. He would give her as much money as she needed to save her home, and then Greta would not have to marry the Baron!
A banker! That reminded Erik of the Herr Banker who had visited Hanssonborg over Christmas. Why, he could help Fru Hansson. Erik suggested this to Greta, but she shook her head.
"Mother has already written to him," she said.
"What was his reply?" asked Erik eagerly.
"He refused," answered Greta. "Hanssonborg is already so heavily in debt that nobody will lend us any more money."
This was hard for Erik to understand. How could anybody refuse to help his beloved family? A strong bond existed between the landowner and the tenants, and to Erik, the Hanssons were like his own people.
"I will think of something," he told Greta, and reached into the depths of his pocket, frowning. "Have a cooky," he said.
In the weeks that followed, Greta stubbornly refused to permit the Baron to announce their engagement. Her mother pleaded with her and tried to point out the seriousness of their position.
But all Greta would say was, "Only give me a little more time."
Then something happened to Erik.
The school offered a trip to Stockholm tothe pupils who could pay their way. These trips were occasionally conducted as a means of studying geography and history. Erik was delighted with the prospect of seeing the principal city of Sweden.
He was also delighted when he remembered that Herr Banker lived in Stockholm. Herr Banker had liked his voice and had shaken hands with him as if they had been friends and made Erik promise to sing for him again some day. An idea was already beginning to form in Erik's brain.
He raced home from school and counted his savings. He had enough money for the trip to Stockholm. Once there, he would call upon Herr Banker.
He decided to say nothing to Greta, however. He would keep his plans a secret until he could surprise her by returning home with the loan for Hanssonborg.
But he must see Nils at once. He went outinto the fields to look for his brother, singing at the top of his voice. A cow stopped chewing to listen. A frisky little colt kicked up its heels and whinnied shrilly.
Greta was sitting in her mother's study. She raised her head when she heard Erik's voice across the fields.
"Happy little Erik," she sighed, and smiled through her tears.
Her mother said, "That does not answer my question, Greta. Will you tell Baron Karl that he may announce your engagement?"
Fru Hansson's desk was strewn with business papers. They had rows and rows of figures all over them. A photograph of the Baron stood above. It smirked down, as much as to say, "After I am master of Hanssonborg, you will not have to worry about these matters."
Greta looked at her mother's hands. They were thin and wrinkled. They were alsowhite and delicate. They must never have to work.
"Please, Greta, give me your answer," repeated Fru Hansson pleadingly.
And Greta said, "Very well, mother. I'll tell Baron Karl today that he may announce our engagement."
FOLK DANCING AT THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT FESTIVAL IN DALECARLIAFOLK DANCING AT THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT FESTIVAL IN DALECARLIA
FOLK DANCING AT THE MIDSUMMER NIGHT FESTIVAL IN DALECARLIA
Erik left for Stockholm. When he was gone, Greta missed him sadly. She missed his happy singing.
Now the only songs she heard were the Baron's laments and her mother's pleading, "When are you going to set your wedding date, Greta?"
To the Baron she replied as sympathetically as she could. To her mother she continued to answer, "Give me a little more time."
At last, however, both Fru Hansson and the Baron began to be annoyed. They wanted to send out wedding invitations. They could not understand why Greta keptdelaying the wedding date. And poor Greta realized that she could not delay it much longer, that she must soon give in.
Erik, however, had not forgotten his decision to ask help of Herr Banker. He was, in fact, going that very evening to Herr Banker's home in Stockholm. But all day long, he and his schoolmates were busy sightseeing in the historic city.
STATUE OF KING GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS IN GOTHENBURGSTATUE OF KING GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS IN GOTHENBURG
STATUE OF KING GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS IN GOTHENBURG
A few wore the costumes of their province, which made a colorful picture as they tramped along the cobblestone streets. Stockholm is seven centuries old, yet her age has not made her in the least old-fashioned.
TOWN HALL, STOCKHOLMTOWN HALL, STOCKHOLM
TOWN HALL, STOCKHOLM
Her town hall is one of the most famous modern buildings in Europe. It stands with its copper head in the blue sky, and its feet in Lake Mälar (mâ´lȧr), bowing in the water to a reflection of the two-hundred-year-old royal palace.
Once during the day, Erik attempted totelephone Herr Banker. A telephone was a new and exciting experience to him. The operator said that she would get his number "in the wink of an eye," just as our operators might have said, "in a minute."
But Herr Banker was busy and could not talk with Erik. So, that evening, after asking his teacher's permission, he went to Herr Banker's home.
It was a clear, beautiful night. The twinkling lights of the town blinked into the many waterways. There were a hundred little islands, and the harbors were filled with ships that sailed to all ports of the world.
MODERN APARTMENT HOUSES, STOCKHOLMMODERN APARTMENT HOUSES, STOCKHOLM
MODERN APARTMENT HOUSES, STOCKHOLM
Some of them carried cargoes of silver birch logs—fuel for the city. The word, "Stockholm," means "Isle of the Log," but the "Isle of the Log" is built of granite.
At Herr Banker's home, the butler informed Erik that a large dinner party was taking place. Erik stood in the elaboratehall and heard the voices of guests from the dining room.
He could smell the delicious food and see a corner of the "sandwich table" (smörgasbord), which starts off every meal in Sweden. There were all kinds of cheeses and cold meats, breads, and delicacies of every variety.
The butler told him that it would be impossible for him to see Herr Banker now, but Erik begged to be announced. The butler scowled at him and disappeared. Erik hoped that the man would deliver his message.
Perhaps the butler would return and repeat that Herr Banker could not be disturbed. If so, he would have to leave Stockholm without seeing Herr Banker.
He must see Herr Banker tonight. It was important to Greta and to Fru Hansson and to Nils.
Off the hallway was a drawing-room. It adjoined the dining room. Erik tiptoed in.
On one side was a huge, stone fireplace. So huge was it that it might easily hide a person, especially a small boy. And when the butler returned, without having announced Erik to his master, there was no small boy in sight.
Crouched in his hiding place, Erik waited patiently. The dinner was long, but at last he heard the guests thanking their host and hostess, and he knew it was over.
The ladies filed into the drawing-room, and Erik held his breath with wonder at the beauty of their gowns and jewels. They were almost as lovely as the many flowers which decorated the room and which were delivered to the house as regularly as the groceries.
The gentlemen now entered. Herr Banker began to talk with an attractive, dark-haired lady, addressing her as Fru Minister Steinhardt.
In Sweden it is proper to use a person's full title, and this lady was the wife of the American ambassador. Erik's only knowledge of that vast country across the sea came through letters from his uncle, who had settled there.
He lived in a state called Minnesota. He wrote that it was almost as full of Swedes as Sweden. Half the farms were owned by Scandinavians, who had also had much to do with the building of a big American city called Minneapolis.
Herr Banker was laughing and joking and seemed in a good humor. But suddenly Erik wondered whether he would continue to be in a good humor if he knew that Erik was hiding in the fireplace. He might become very angry, and then he would not listen to Erik's plea.
A terrible fear came over Erik. What had he done?
Just then, Herr Banker announced that there was to be a musicale. He introduced the first entertainer. She was a singer.
As Erik listened to the clear, sweet voice, he forgot his fear. The melodies delighted him, and when the singer began a folk songwhich Greta had taught him, Erik began to sing with her.
Gradually, and unknown to himself, his voice rose higher. And so high did it finally rise, that at the end of the song, it was as loud as the singer's.
There was silence in the room. Everybody looked at the fireplace. Everybody's eyes puzzlingly searched for the unseen owner of that mysterious voice behind the fire screen.
Herr Banker said, "This is like a ghost story," and he walked over to the other side of the room. "Come out," he commanded, "whoever you are."
And Erik came out. He was covered with soot. He was black and mussed and soiled. He looked like a frightened little chimney sweep. He was on the verge of tears.
ERIK CAME OUTERIK CAME OUT
ERIK CAME OUT
"What does this mean?" Herr Banker demanded. "What are you doing there, child?"
"Hiding," said Erik. His voice was choked. "I had to see you, Herr Banker. I had to! It was so important."
"You are the boy who promised never tosing again to annoy people. I remember you," said Herr Banker.
"Oh, I know, sir!" Erik's lips were trembling. "But when I heard the beautiful music, I could not help it. I forgot everything but the song."
Herr Banker put his hand on Erik's shoulder, and now he smiled. "Never mind," he said. "Perhaps, after all, my guests were not annoyed. Perhaps they even liked your singing!" He turned to the company. "Would you care to hear Erik sing again?"
Hearty applause answered this question.
So Erik sang. And, though his face was streaked with soot and tears, and his little costume sadly wrinkled, his audience seemed to forget it. Because his voice appeared to bring a great, light happiness to their hearts and to make their eyes see dimly.
When he had finished, it might have been noticed that several ladies took handkerchiefsout of handbags, while quite a few gentlemen were coughing. Yet none had colds.
Herr Banker told Erik to follow him into another room. When they were alone, he asked, "What is your name, child?" Erik wondered why his voice shook.
"It is Erik Lindgren," answered the boy.
"Erik Lindgren," repeated Herr Banker. "That name may some day be known to all the world."
STOCKHOLM IS A CITY OF BRIDGESSTOCKHOLM IS A CITY OF BRIDGES
STOCKHOLM IS A CITY OF BRIDGES
He blew his nose. "Jenny Lind was a child like you," he continued, "and she lived in Sweden, too. One day she was heard singing a lullaby to her cat, and from that time on, a great opera house became her home. She grew up to be one of the best singers in all the world, and they called her 'the Swedish Nightingale.'"
THE CONCERT HALL IN STOCKHOLM. BEFORE IT IS THE OPEN MARKET. EVERY SWEDISH CITY HAS ITS OPEN MARKETTHE CONCERT HALL IN STOCKHOLM.BEFORE IT IS THE OPEN MARKET.EVERY SWEDISH CITY HAS ITS OPEN MARKET
THE CONCERT HALL IN STOCKHOLM.BEFORE IT IS THE OPEN MARKET.EVERY SWEDISH CITY HAS ITS OPEN MARKET
Erik's eyes suddenly blazed with anger, and he threw back his head. "I am not agirl!" he cried. "I'm a boy and shall some day be a sea captain or—or a warrior!"
He looked very fierce, and Herr Banker laughed.
"No, no, Erik," he said. "Never a warrior! Ours is a peaceful land, remember. A sea captain, perhaps. But—" He sat downon the sofa and drew Erik toward him, saying, "Tell me why you came to see me, child. What can I do for you?"
He listened kindly as Erik told his story, ending, "And so, Herr Banker, will you lend Fru Hansson the money?"
Herr Banker was looking down at his hands. He was silent. The big hall clock ticked firmly, and Erik's heart pounded in time. What was Herr Banker going to say?
At last he raised his head. "You have asked something which is not easy to grant, Erik," he said. "Hanssonborg, like many other large estates, is burdened with debts. My bank has already loaned Fru Hansson sums of money. I am afraid we can lend no more."
"Oh, but, Herr Banker," cried Erik, "for Greta's sake! The Baron is a gnome!"
"The Baron is a—a gnome?" Herr Banker was puzzled.
"Yes, a sickly, cowardly old gnome!" declared Erik. "And Greta must not marry him. My brother Nils is strong and brave, and when he finishes his studies, he will manage Hanssonborg and marry Greta and pay you back your money—every cent!"
Erik drew a deep breath, and Herr Banker smiled.
"But where do you think I am to find this money to lend Fru Hansson?" he inquired. "That which is in the bank does not belong to me. It belongs to other people, who put it there to keep it safe. If I were to take it out and maybe lose it, I should be stealing. Shouldn't I?"
Erik had not thought of that. Nor did he know that his country was noted for its successful management of money affairs. The Bank of Sweden is the oldest bank in Europe. Erik only knew that he was bitterly disappointed and unhappy.
"So you cannot help Fru Hansson and Greta?" he asked, with piteous despair.
Herr Banker again blew his nose. It sounded like the blast of a trumpet.
"Come back again tomorrow, Erik," he said. "I will give you my answer then."
FISHING BEFORE THE ROYAL PALACE IN STOCKHOLMFISHING BEFORE THE ROYAL PALACE IN STOCKHOLM
FISHING BEFORE THE ROYAL PALACE IN STOCKHOLM
On the evening when Erik was visiting Herr Banker in Stockholm, Greta and Fru Hansson were sitting alone in their drawing-room at Hanssonborg. The Baron had gone to bed with a hot water bottle. He had sneezed twice after dinner.
The wind howled outside. It sounded like a pack of hungry wolves. Greta turned on the radio, but Fru Hansson made her switch it off.
She said, "You know that every sound disturbs the Baron."
Just then there came a terrific crash. Tiles were torn from the roof. The windwas trying to scalp the head of Hanssonborg.
"We cannot keep this house standing another winter without repairs," sighed Fru Hansson. Then she sat up straighter, and Greta could see the question forming on her lips. "When are you going to set your wedding day?"
Greta suddenly stood up. Her lovely face was flushed with anger.
"You cannot force me to marry a coward," she told her mother.
Fru Hansson stiffened. "But the Baron is not a coward," she said. "In his family are men of valor, as brave and strong as those in our own."
Greta laughed. "You surely do not call Baron Karl brave and strong!" she said scornfully.
"Perhaps not strong," replied her mother. "His health is poor—for which he is not toblame. But I am sure he is no coward. If he were, you know well that I would never ask you to marry him!"
Greta knew. She knew that Fru Hansson, fearless and proud, loathed cowards.
She started to walk back and forth in the room. Suppose she were to prove to her mother that Baron Karl really was a coward. In that case, she would not have to marry him. But what good would it do? They would only lose Hanssonborg. She was in a trap, with no way out.
Another blast of wind, and the whole house shook. One day it might fall down. They would have to watch it crumble before their very eyes.
Next morning, Baron Karl came down to breakfast in a sullen mood. He said that the storm had kept him awake all night. He told them that he would soon be leaving Hanssonborg. Fru Hansson sighed andgave her daughter a wistful look of appeal.
After breakfast, when Greta went for her usual stroll with the Baron, she said, "Please don't go away. We want you to stay."
Karl stopped and stared at her unbelievingly. It was the first time she had ever spoken to him like that.
"Then you will set our wedding day?" he asked her, and his nose twitched with excitement and hay fever.
"Yes," answered Greta. "Let it be whenever you wish it."
At that, the Baron became so excited that he swallowed three pills at once and choked. They had to hurry back to the house. Greta spent the rest of the morning weeping in her room.
Meanwhile, in the twisting streets of Stockholm, Erik and his schoolmates were again sightseeing. It was their last day. They were returning home that evening.
However, Erik was planning to go to Herr Banker's house that afternoon to hear Herr Banker's answer. He was seeing the city through a maze of worried hopes, praying that Herr Banker would agree to help the Hanssons.
Everywhere in Stockholm was water; everywhere were glistening waterways with ships upon them. There were bridges and harbors and quays.
The royal palace was the most important building. The teacher told them that Sweden is one of the few countries in Europe which still retains its king.
They visited the spot where, hundreds of years ago, the King of Denmark beheaded the leading citizens of Stockholm. This terrible tragedy is known as "the Blood Bath."
They stopped to admire a statue of Jenny Lind. Erik remembered what Herr Banker had said last evening about the "SwedishNightingale." He had said that Erik, too, might grow up to be a singer.
JENNY LIND, THE "SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE"JENNY LIND, THE "SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE"
JENNY LIND, THE "SWEDISH NIGHTINGALE"
"And I shall sing for Herr Banker all the rest of my life," thought Erik, "if only he will say, 'yes' to me this afternoon."
"What are you muttering about, Erik?" asked the teacher. "Why do you walk with your head in the clouds? You can see nothing that way."
It was true. Erik might as well have been in the moon. He had forgotten where he was, in thinking about Herr Banker.
Now he brought himself back to earth and found that they had arrived at the Outdoor Museum of Skansen. Old-fashioned cottages, tiny farms, and windmills had been brought here from every part of Sweden.
THE ROYAL PALACE, STOCKHOLMTHE ROYAL PALACE, STOCKHOLM
THE ROYAL PALACE, STOCKHOLM
Children danced in the costumes of their provinces, and one could often tell to which parish they belonged by the dress they wore. If a woman was married, her cap was white. But if she was single, then it was red.
THE CITY LIBRARY, STOCKHOLMTHE CITY LIBRARY, STOCKHOLM
THE CITY LIBRARY, STOCKHOLM
When the day's excursion was over, Erik started off to Herr Banker's. He promised to return to the hotel and join his schoolmates in time to take the train.
He ran almost all the way to the banker's house. Once an automobile came near hitting him, but he jumped upon one of the small safety islands. There he stayed forwhat seemed like weeks, while buses, taxicabs, motorcycles, and swarms of bicycles passed in a steady stream.
He would put down his foot and start to cross, when whiz!—something with an angry horn or bell would almost take off his nose. At last, however, he made a dash and found himself on the other side of the street.
When he reached Herr Banker's house, he rang the doorbell and felt his heart slide down into his boots. This time, the butler did not make him wait, but showed him right into Herr Banker's private study. There sat Herr Banker behind a big desk, smiling at him.
"Good day, Erik," he said.
"Good day, sir," gulped Erik and promptly fell over a footstool.
His face turned scarlet. He felt ashamed. He was only an awkward country boy.
"Sit down, Erik," said his host kindly.
Erik sat down upon the edge of a chair and leaned forward eagerly.
"Oh, sir," he breathed, "are you going to help Fru Hansson?"
The banker began, "I should like to, Erik, very much—"
"He's going to help! He's going to help!" sang Erik inside.
"But—" Herr Banker's smile faded and Erik's song died, "but I'm afraid that I cannot." There was a moment's silence before Herr Banker went on. "Still," he said, "I can do something else for you, Erik. I am planning a little journey through Sweden. I am taking my family along. How would you like to go with us?"
Erik's eyes grew big. He had never been on a real journey. This trip to Stockholm had been his very first. He had never traveled before in his whole life. He forgot Hanssonborg. He forgot Greta and Nils andeverything except this promise of a new adventure. It was too wonderful to be true. He had always hoped to see the beauties of his country, about which he had read so much.
"Oh, thank you, sir!" he cried.
Then he remembered. Herr Banker wasnot going to lend Fru Hansson the money. Greta would have to marry the Baron, and the Baron would become master of Hanssonborg.
He rose from his chair. He twisted his little cap in his hands, and said slowly, "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot go with you."
Herr Banker seemed astonished. "And why not, Erik?" he asked.
"Because," replied Erik, "I could not enjoy myself while at home there is so much sorrow."
Herr Banker stroked his chin. Then suddenly he clapped his hand down hard on the desk.
"Very well. You have won, Erik," he said. "I'll lend Fru Hansson the money. But it will be my own, and if I should lose it—" He frowned darkly, but Erik could tell that it was a make-believe frown. "If I should lose it, do you know what I'll make you do?"
Erik shook his head. He could not trust himself to speak. He thought that he might cry if he did, because he was so happy.
"I'll make you sing to me night and day forever afterwards."
Herr Banker laughed, and so did Erik, and it was all settled between them. Herr Banker was to secure the permission of Erik's parents and of his teacher, that he might go along on the trip through Sweden. Summer vacation would soon be here, so he would not miss school. Besides, the trip itself would be a wonderful education to the little country boy.
Herr Banker gave Erik a letter to Fru Hansson, written in his own handwriting. It promised Fru Hansson a loan on her estate, and Erik was to deliver the letter himself when he returned to Hanssonborg. What a glorious surprise for Fru Hansson and for Greta and for Nils!
But Erik did not know what had recently taken place at Hanssonborg. He did not know that Greta had at last agreed to let the Baron name their wedding day.
Fru Hansson was, on the contrary, delighted when she heard this. That same evening, they talked over plans for the wedding.
Greta was silent and finally the Baron said, "Greta has made no suggestions. I think she should be the one to set the happy day."
Greta wanted to cry out, "It will not be a happy day. I wish it would never come." But aloud she answered, "It makes no difference to me."
"Then let us be married on Midsummer Eve," said Baron Karl, and poor Greta felt a lump come into her throat.
Midsummer Eve is one of Sweden's most festive occasions, for then the sun is at its highest. Greta recalled the many happy times when she and Nils had danced aroundthe Maypole with the peasants. For on that night, tenant and landlord celebrate together, and there is no difference in class.