Arne looked from one to the other. They sounded serious, but they often joked that way. He grinned and brought his hands together in a noisy clap. “Am I going to the saeter, then?”
“Let’s see how we get along this evening with the work,” was all Father would say. But Arne’s heart felt light as he went back to the dock with the others. His fingers flew, and he sang louder than anyone.
2
The sun was still high in that land of the midnight sun when Father said, “Past nine o’clock. Time for a boy to be in bed if he’s to be up early to start for the saeter.”
“Oh, Father! I can go?” cried Arne.
“Well, the lutfisk’s nearly all baled. We don’t want you around here tomorrow eating up all the pickled herring. Uncle Jens is going to need help. See that you give it to him.”
“Oh, I will! Oh yes, sir!” cried Arne joyfully.
He wanted to say a special thank-you to Gustav for making it possible, but he didn’t quite know how. Gustav was likely to make a joke of things, and this wasn’t a joke at all. He did look up at his big brother, half shyly, as they walked up the hill toward home, and say, “I’m glad I am going. It was your doing, really.”