The great question which Albert Grimlund was debating was fraught
with unpleasant possibilities. He could not go home for the Christmas
vacation, for his father lived in Drontheim, which is so far away from
Christiania that it was scarcely worth while making the journey for
a mere two-weeks’ holiday. Then, on the other hand, he had an old
great-aunt who lived but a few miles from the city. She had, from
conscientious motives, he feared, sent him an invitation to pass
Christmas with her. But Albert had a poor opinion of Aunt Elsbeth.
He thought her a very tedious person. She had a dozen cats, talked
of nothing but sermons and lessons, and asked him occasionally, with
pleasant humor, whether he got many whippings at school. She failed to
comprehend that a boy could not amuse himself forever by looking at
the pictures in the old family Bible, holding yarn, and listening to
oft-repeated stories, which he knew by heart, concerning the doings and
sayings of his grandfather. Aunt Elsbeth, after a previous experience
with her nephew, had come to regard boys as rather a reprehensible kind
of animal, who differed in many of their ways from girls, and altogether
to the boys’ disadvantage.
Now, the prospect of being “caged” for two weeks with this estimable
lady was, as I said, not at all pleasant to Albert. He was sixteen years
old, loved out-door sports, and had no taste for cats. His chief pride
was his muscle, and no boy ever made his acquaintance without being
invited to feel the size and hardness of his biceps. This was a standing
joke in the Latin school, and Albert was generally known among his
companions as “Biceps” Grimlund. He was not very tall for his age, but
broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with something in his glance, his
gait, and his manners which showed that he had been born and bred near
the sea. He cultivated a weather-beaten complexion, and was particularly
proud when the skin “peeled” on his nose, which it usually did in the
summer-time, during his visits to his home in the extreme north. Like
most blond people, when sunburnt, he was red, not brown; and this became
a source of great satisfaction when he learned that Lord Nelson had
the same peculiarity. Albert’s favorite books were the sea romances of
Captain Marryat, whose “Peter Simple” and “Midshipman Easy” he held to
be the noblest products of human genius. It was a bitter disappointment
to him that his father forbade his going to sea and was educating him
to be a “landlubber,” which he had been taught by his boy associates to
regard as the most contemptible thing on earth.
Two days before Christmas, Biceps Grimlund was sitting in his room,
looking gloomily out of the window. He wished to postpone as long as
possible his departure for Aunt Elsbeth’s country-place, for he foresaw
that both he and she were doomed to a surfeit of each other’s company
during the coming fortnight. At last he heaved a deep sigh and languidly
began to pack his trunk. He had just disposed the dear Marryat books on
top of his starched shirts, when he heard rapid footsteps on the stairs,
and the next moment the door burst open, and his classmate, Ralph Hoyer,
rushed breathlessly into the room.
“Biceps,” he cried, “look at this! Here is a letter from my father, and
he tells me to invite one of my classmates to come home with me for the
vacation. Will you come? Oh, we shall have grand times, I tell you! No
end of fun!”
Albert, instead of answering, jumped up and danced a jig on the floor,
upsetting two chairs and breaking the wash-pitcher.
“Hurrah!” he cried, “I’m your man. Shake hands on it, Ralph! You have
saved me from two weeks of cats and yarn and moping! Give us your paw! I
never was so glad to see anybody in all my life.”
And to prove it, he seized Ralph by the shoulders, gave him a vigorous
whirl and forced him to join in the dance.
“Now, stop your nonsense,” Ralph protested, laughing; “if you have so
much strength to waste, wait till we are at home in Solheim, and you’ll
have a chance to use it profitably.”
Albert flung himself down on his old rep-covered sofa. It seemed to
have some internal disorder, for its springs rattled and a vague musical
twang indicated that something or other had snapped. It had seen much
maltreatment, that poor old piece of furniture, and bore visible marks
of it. When, after various exhibitions of joy, their boisterous delight
had quieted down, both boys began to discuss their plans for the
vacation.
“But I fear my groom may freeze, down there in the street,” Ralph
ejaculated, cutting short the discussion; “it is bitter cold, and he
can’t leave the horses. Hurry up, now, old man, and I’ll help you pack.”
It did not take them long to complete the packing. Albert sent a
telegram to his father, asking permission to accept Ralph’s invitation;
but, knowing well that the reply would be favorable, did not think
it necessary to wait for it. With the assistance of his friend he
now wrapped himself in two overcoats, pulled a pair of thick woollen
stockings over the outside of his boots and a pair of fur-lined
top-boots outside of these, girded himself with three long scarfs, and
pulled his brown otter-skin cap down over his ears. He was nearly
as broad as he was long, when he had completed these operations, and
descended into the street where the big double-sleigh (made in the shape
of a huge white swan) was awaiting them. They now called at Ralph’s
lodgings, whence he presently emerged in a similar Esquimau costume,
wearing a wolf-skin coat which left nothing visible except the tip of
his nose and the steam of his breath. Then they started off merrily with
jingling bells, and waved a farewell toward many a window, wherein were
friends and acquaintances. They felt in so jolly a mood, that they could
not help shouting their joy in the face of all the world, and crowing
over all poor wretches who were left to spend the holidays in the city.