This experience filled Erik with a great desire to become a singer some day. He sang constantly from that time on, unless he happened to be eating or sleeping.
When he returned to Hanssonborg, he was eager to hear whether Nils and Greta had yet obtained Fru Hansson's consent to their marriage.
It was again midsummer, and over the door of his parents' cottage hung branches of birch trees. This was a yearly custom which started with the ancient belief that the spirit of the tree will bless the house.
"Mother!" called Erik, running inside. There was no answer. He stood on the pine floor. It had been covered with fresh birch leaves.
He called again. "Nils!"
Still no answer. Nobody was home.
He went over to the big house, straight to the kitchen, and there he found things in a state of bustling excitement. Fru Svenson's face was flaming red. Something was going on—something very important.
"Good day, Fru Svenson," Erik greeted her. "Where is my mother?"
Fru Svenson turned with a bowl of cakes in her hand. "Your mother is helping the bride, and you must not bother her. Are you hungry, child?"
Now Fru Svenson knew that this last remark was unnecessary. Erik was always hungry.