"Look underneath the bridge in that dark corner, just behind those rushes. Erik was rowing me home from your house, Gerda. When we got just there, something white and misty rose up out of the water. I heard a soft, sweet note, and Erik thought perhaps he did too. Then I thought I saw him dimly resting on the waves, just as Miss Eklund says water-sprites do."
"Weren't you frightened?" asked Karin in wide-eyed surprise.
"I wanted Erik to stop rowing so I could listen, but he wouldn't. Mother said he must never take me there again toward night. Father, won't you tell us the story of the water-sprite and the budding staff, while we are waiting for the wind to come up?" begged Sigrid.
"It doesn't look as though we should do much sailing for awhile. But you must all know the old legend, I am sure," said Major Lund.
"We should like to hear it just the same," the children all chimed in.
"Well," began Major Lund, "this water-sprite lived under an old bridge just like that one over there. He was such a happy fellow that he sat playing his harp half the livelong day. One afternoon, a grim and sour-faced old priest came ambling along on his horse, over the bridge.
"Suddenly he drew rein, for he heard the sweetest music. He rode back across the bridge and hunted several minutes before he discovered the merry sprite.
"In his ugliest tone of voice the priest called out: