Very early in the afternoon, it seemed to the children, Fru Bjerkander came to call, bringing with her Helmer and Hedwig, her son and daughter, who were about the age of the Edgecombe children. Much to the relief of John and Dorothy, they found that their new acquaintances could speak English almost as well as they could speak their own language, so they were soon chatting merrily together.
They heard Fru Bjerkander explaining to their mother that she had been obliged to come early in order to take advantage of the daylight and this caused Hedwig to say to Dorothy, “It’s too bad that you came to Sweden when we are having dark nights.” Dorothy looked bewildered, so Hedwig’s brother hastened to explain: “You know we have most of our visitors in summer, when the daylight lasts half through the night. I dare say your father will take you up north to see the midnight sun, next summer.” “Oh, yes, I see what you mean now by dark nights,” said John. “You mean they are long ones.”
“Yes, they are indeed,” said the children. “Very soon it will be so dark at three o’clock in the afternoon that we must have the lights.” “But, after all,” said Hedwig, “if you had come in the summer time, you wouldn’t have been here for Jul-tide, and that is the jolliest time of the whole year. I can hardly wait for the season to come.”
“Father told us we would have the longest Christmas we had ever celebrated,” said John, “but we didn’t quite know what he meant.” “Oh,” said Helmer, “you only celebrate one Jul in your country, do you? Our fun commences on Christmas Eve, and the day after Jul we have what you would call a second-day Christmas, and then a third-day Christmas. In fact there is some kind of fun on foot until the thirteenth-day Jul or sometimes until twentieth-day Jul, which comes the thirteenth day of January.”
“Oh, my,” cried Dorothy wistfully, “what fun you must have when you live here and know people.” “You’re going to have it too, this year,” said sweet little Hedwig, who had caught the longing note in Dorothy’s voice. “Mother has told us that you are to share all of our Jul-tide frolics.”
“That is quite true,” added Mrs. Bjerkander as she rose to go. “My children have talked of nothing else but the coming of the young Americans ever since my husband first met their father. I hope they will be good friends.”
“We think we are very fortunate to find such friends,” replied Mrs. Edgecombe, “and now I shall have no fear of the children being lonely.”
They all found the next few days really too short for all they wished to crowd into them. They visited the library of the University where their father was working daily and wandered through the strange streets, watching the throngs of students, who reminded them of the merry college boys in their own town. “Only our boys would never keep their caps clean,” declared Dorothy, and their father laughed quite heartily at the thought as he said, “You’re right, Dolly.” But strange to say, these lively students always managed to keep the little white velvet caps trimmed with a rosette of blue and yellow, the national colors, perfectly clean, and seemed very proud of this mark of distinction which they wore.
One morning they visited the old castle on the hill, another day they went to market with their mother and Stena, who was quite bewildered in her efforts to be a polite servant and at the same time show her new mistress how to trade in this strange market.
They discovered many odd things about their own new home. All the windows were covered with double windows and the cracks in the casements were covered with long strips of white gummed paper, pasted on to keep out any possible draught.