The summer months had winged themselves away. All through the golden days, Sigrid had lived in the sunshine, as blithe and merry as an elfin maid. To be sure, there had been a short lesson nearly every day with Miss Eklund, for Sigrid's mother did not believe that her little girl should spend all the holiday months in frolicking.
September had come, and with it hints of long lesson days and a return to Stockholm. But in the excitement over Sigrid's name-day party, it was easy to forget such unpleasant things. Karin, Elsa, and Karl, the cousins who had also been making a long visit with their grandmother, had begged to be allowed to stay for the party. Several little friends who lived in fine villas on the lake were coming to spend the day.
"Be sure to call me at five o'clock in the morning, Miss Eklund," said Elsa, on the evening before the party.
Miss Eklund promised, so Elsa arose at an early hour and awoke the others. Followed by them, with their arms full of flowers and green leaves, she tiptoed into Sigrid's room.
"Hush, Anders, your boots squeak. We must not waken her. That would spoil everything," whispered Elsa.
"Hang the end of your garland over the bedpost, so," continued Elsa. She festooned the brass post of Sigrid's bed with the long chain of green leaves. Then she silently motioned to her sister Karin to do the same with her end.
"I'll tie this bunch of bachelors'-buttons to the corner of the foot-board where she will see them when she first opens her eyes," whispered Karin.
"My, doesn't it look pretty!" said Elsa. The children then filed out into the hall and peered through the doorway. Sigrid's rosy cheeks were half-buried in her plump arm, which was thrown up over her head. She appeared to be soundly sleeping in the midst of a huge nosegay of posies and green leaves.
"Now I wish she would wake up," exclaimed Anders in a very loud whisper.
Elsa put her hand over his mouth, but not before the quiet figure in bed stirred a little. Suddenly Sigrid sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and clapped her hands.