“Were they really buried here?” asked Dorothy in awe.
“Probably not,” said her father; “it is generally supposed that the mounds really mark the graves of ancient kings.”
Then Professor Bjerkander took them to the little Christian church that stands on the site of the old heathen temple and the children tried to imagine the great halls glittering with gold and silver and filled with people offering sacrifices to Thor the Terrible, while they mourned for Balder the Beautiful.
So they drove back into the city, their minds full of the Norse gods while their hearts were thankful that the days of that
wild religion were over and that the birthday of the Prince of Peace was the day they were celebrating.
For dinner, they had the three chief dainties of the season, lusk-fish which had been prepared by heating for several days in wood-ashes, rice sweetened and flavored with cinnamon, and roast goose. The children missed the roast turkey and cranberry sauce which their own Grandma always cooked but they were hungry and did ample justice to their Swedish dinner.
Second-day Christmas and third-day Christmas passed all too quickly and the Edgecombe children had almost as good a time as on the great day itself. For now their friends, like themselves, were free to skate and ski and enjoy all the winter sports of that northern land. Amidst all their pleasures, they prepared for their party, which was to be the crowning feature of the week. A beautiful spruce tree was decorated for the occasion and Mrs. Edgecombe bought plenty of Julbocken and Julgrisen to trim it, with other dainties peculiar to the season. To Freda’s little store of gifts she added others of her own selection, and invited the Bjerkander children to help entertain the guests, for she thought that she might have to call upon them to help her deliver Freda’s messages. And so it proved, for when they came, they could only smile and courtesy to Freda’s mistress. Stena had to talk for them, but her English was limited, and so the Bjerkander children acted as interpreters.
The guests seemed very grateful for their gifts and delighted with the tree, but nothing pleased them as Freda’s own presents, and it seemed as if they would wear the photograph out, as they passed it from one to the other, admiring it and chatting about “Freda’s man.” When they went home, Freda’s mother thanked Mrs. Edgecombe for her kindness with tears in her eyes and an expression of gratitude on her face which needed no translation into English. They asked the Americans to come and see them and Professor Edgecombe promised that, when the summer days came, before they returned home, they would drive out and visit the little red cottage which had been Freda’s girlhood home.