“What does she mean by that?” asked Dorothy of her mother. “We will have to go and find out, dear,” said her mother, “for I have no more idea what she means than you have.”
When the Edgecombe family arrived at the home of their friends the next morning, they were ushered into the dining-room, for the living-room was locked and darkened. They all thought it very odd that there were no signs of any preparations for a meal for it was almost noon. Just at twelve, however, Fru Bjerkander invited them into the kitchen, where they were soon seated about a well-spread table. Their hostess then explained in English that it was an old custom all over Sweden for employers and servants to dine together on the day before Christmas, and rich and poor alike ate this meal in the kitchen. “I still fail to understand why you should call it ‘dipping-day,’” said Professor Edgecombe.
“I will show you,” said Fru Bjerkander, rising. She took from the stove the kettle in which the ham and pork, the chief dishes of the dinner, had been cooked. As she passed it to each one, everybody dipped a bit of bread in the sizzling fat in which the meat had been cooked and ate it with much glee. “On this day we must all doppai grytan,” she said, and Hedwig translated the expression for them by saying “That means that we must all dip in the kettle.”
“But why do you do this?” asked Professor Edgecombe. “I do not know,” replied Professor Bjerkander, “unless it is because we always have ham and pork at Jul-tide in remembrance of the Jul-boar, which was always roasted whole at the heathen festival.”
The short afternoon was soon over and, a few hours later, the children were admitted to the living-room, where the beautiful spruce tree stood in all its glory. The Edgecombes had seen many Christmas trees, but it seemed to them that none had ever seemed so beautiful as this one with its brilliant lights and graceful trimmings.
The children joined hands about it and danced through the rooms and around and around the tree, until they were out of breath. Then the presents were distributed from the tables which stood piled high with gifts beneath the tree, and the Americans were surprised to find so many bearing their own names. Each gift was sealed and tied daintily, while all were accompanied by some appropriate little verse, for the Swedes think that no gift is quite complete unless there is a little poem with it.
When, at length, the Edgecombe family went home, they met parties of merry masqueraders who were joking together and having the best of times as they delivered packages from house to house. They understood that these were the servants, who were allowed to amuse themselves in this way while they did their duty of delivering their master’s gifts.
Very early the next morning, they all started for the old cathedral to attend matins, the early service which good Lutherans always attend on Christmas morning. The streets were still dark and the lights of the cathedral shone out brightly as they approached the great open doorways. But, in spite of this, they were quite unprepared for the burst of brilliancy which met their gaze when they entered the church. Everywhere they gazed was a light, and the children said that now they understood why so many of their Swedish friends still referred to Jul-tide by its old-fashioned name of the Festival of Light.
Before the morning was far advanced, the Bjerkanders had called for them and they were all snugly packed into the great roomy sleigh drawn by prancing horses which were covered with white nets and decorated with nodding plumes. It seemed to the children that even the horses acted as if they knew it was holiday time, for they danced along so gaily.
The three miles were quickly covered and they came to the place where stand the three great mounds which the Swedes say mark the graves of Odin, Thor and Freya, the great gods of their forefathers.