John had been much interested in the small, sooty-faced little lads whom he had occasionally seen running about the streets with their brooms in their hands. He had much wanted to make the acquaintance of one and now thought that he knew enough Swedish to ask him a few questions.
But Stena was quite astonished when her mistress told her to show the little lad into the living-room, after his work was done. She shook her head determinedly. “Too dirty, too dirty,” she repeated with emphasis.
“Well,” laughed his mother, “if you want to talk with him, John, I think you’ll have to go into the kitchen and see him there, when he has finished. Stena is quite right and I do not know as I blame her for not wanting him in her clean room. Tell her to let us know when he is ready.”
As the kitchen door closed behind Stena, Mrs. Edgecombe reminded them that there was still one box which had not been unpacked.
“I have neglected to do so because I think that it contains only some of our heaviest winter clothing,” she said. “But it has been so long since we packed it that I have almost forgotten what is in it. Suppose we open it, now.”
John pried up the cover and Mrs. Edgecombe tore off the papers which covered the top. As she did so, Dorothy uttered an exclamation.
“Freda’s box,” she cried, “Freda’s box!”
Sure enough, there was the package of toys and trinkets which Freda had selected with such loving care in the American stores and entrusted to them to give to her dear ones.
“We must find the family and give these to them, at once,” said Mrs. Edgecombe, but she looked puzzled when John inquired, “What’s the name and address?”
“Perhaps it’s in the box,” suggested Dorothy. “All I remember is Freda’s telling us that her home was just outside of Upsala.” But a careful search of the box revealed no address. The little presents were carefully marked for each member of the family but there was no surname on any one of them and nothing which gave them a clue of the name of the place where