Karen looked surprised. "Where do you wear it?" she asked.
Then Gerda told about her summer home in Rättvik. "It is on Lake Siljan, in the central part of Sweden, in a province that is called Dalarne," she explained. "It is a very old-fashioned place, and the people still wear the costumes which were worn hundreds of years ago."
A wistful look had stolen into Karen's face as she listened. "I suppose there are ever so many children in Rättvik," she said.
"Oh, yes," answered Gerda. "We play together every day, and go to church on Sundays; and sometimes I help to row the Sunday boat."
"What is the Sunday boat?" was Karen's next question.
"There are several parishes in Rättvik, and many of the people live so far away from the church that they row across the lake together in a long boat which is called the Sunday boat," Gerda told her.
"And do you have girl friends in Stockholm?" asked Karen, envying this
Gerda who came and went from city to country so easily.
"Yes, indeed," answered Gerda. Then she smiled and said shyly, "I wish you would be my friend, too. When I go home I can write to you."
Karen's face flushed with pleasure. "Oh, will you?" she cried. "But there will be so little for me to write to you," she added soberly. "After the snow comes, and my brothers have all gone into the woods for the winter, there are weeks at a time when I never see any one but my father and mother."
"You can tell me all about your birds," Gerda suggested; "and the way the moon shines on the long stretches of snow; and about the animals that creep out from the woods sometimes and sniff around your door. And I will tell you about my school, and the parties I have with my friends. And I will send you some new music to play on the piano."