Birger looked up from the door-step where he was whittling out a mast for one of his boats. "If I didn't intend to be an admiral in the navy when I am a man," he said, "I should come here and take care of the farm. It really is the prettiest farmhouse and the best farm in Dalarne."
"It certainly will be the prettiest by night, when we have it dressed up for the midsummer festival," Gerda declared. "Come, Birger! Come, Karen! We must go and gather flowers and birch leaves to decorate the house."
"But we must put away our work first," said orderly Karen, gathering up her paints and brushes.
Gerda ran to push the loom back into the corner. As she did so, she said with a smile, "The first rug I ever made was very ugly. It had a great many dark strips in it. That was because my grandmother made me weave in a dark strip every time I was naughty."
Karen laughed. "How I would like to see it," she said.
"Oh, I have it now. I will show it to you," and Gerda crossed the room and opened one of the chests which were ranged against the wall.
"This is my own chest, where my grandmother keeps everything I make," she said, as she lifted the cover and took out a bundle. Opening the bundle, she unrolled a funny little rug.
Pointing to a wide black stripe in the middle, Gerda said, "That was for the time I broke the vinegar jug, and spoiled Ebba Jorn's dress."
"Oh, tell me about it!" cried Karen.
"No," replied Gerda, "it was too naughty to tell about;" and she put the rug quickly back into the chest.