“It is certain that they will not want to stay very long in our Bergen,” said Herr Falck, “the English never do. What should you say now if you all took your summer outing at once and settled down at Ulvik or Balholm for a few weeks, then you would be able to see a little of our friends and could start them well on their tour.”
“What a delightful plan, little father!” cried Sigrid; “only you must come too, or we shall none of us enjoy it.”
“I would run over for the Sunday, perhaps; that would be as much as I could manage; but Frithiof will be there to take care of you. What should you want with a careworn old man like me, now that he is at home again?”
“You fish for compliments, little father,” said Sigrid, slipping her arm within his and giving him one of those mute caresses which are so much more eloquent than words. “But, quite between ourselves, though Frithiof is all very well, I shant enjoy it a bit without you.”
“Yes, yes, father dear,” said Swanhild, “indeed you must come, for Frithiof he will be just no good at all; he will be sure to dance always with the pretty Miss Morgan, and to row her about on the fjord all day, just as he did those pretty girls at Norheimsund and Faleide.”
The innocent earnestness of the child’s tone made them all laugh, and Frithiof, vowing vengeance on her for her speech, chased her round and round the garden, their laughter floating back to Herr Falck and Sigrid as they entered the house.
“The little minx!” said Herr Falck, “how innocently she said it, too! I don’t think our boy is such a desperate flirt though. As far as I remember, there was nothing more than a sort of boy and girl friendship at either place.”
“Oh no,” said Sigrid, smiling. “Frithiof was too much of a school-boy, every one liked him and he liked every one. I don’t think he is the sort of man to fall in love easily.”
“No; but when it does come it will be a serious affair. I very much wish to see him happily married.”
“Oh, father! surely not yet. He is so young, we can’t spare him yet.”