AT GRANDMOTHER'S
"PERA, you do remember me, don't you? Oh, you nice old dog!" Anders
threw his arms around the neck of a small shaggy yellow dog that was
wriggling almost out of his skin with joy. You could not have told
which was the happier, the dog or the boy.
"Just think! I haven't seen you for six months, Pera!" The two
playmates romped across grandmother's lawn to the porch, where Erik was
sitting on the steps with a tennis racket, waiting for his father.
"Sigrid has been hunting everywhere for you, Anders," said Erik.
"Here you are," exclaimed Sigrid a minute later, as she spied Anders.
"Larsson says there is a baby calf over in the barn, and he will show
it to us if we will go now."
Anders jumped up quickly, and followed by the dog, the children ran
toward the group of barns and stables, at some distance from the house.
"Look at all those wild strawberries in this field," said Anders.
"I had forgotten that it was time for them. I must ask grandmother if
we can pick all we want," said Sigrid.
"I want to see father's new sailboat. Have you been down to the lake
yet?" asked Anders.
"No," said Sigrid. "Let's go around and see everything. Mother says we
shall stay all summer, because poor grandmother is so old and feeble
she doesn't like to leave her. Larsson, Larsson, where are you?"
The old farmer, who had taken care of the grounds and farm for many
years, hobbled out to the barn door to welcome the children and to
show them the new calf, the little pigs, and the chickens.
No place in the world is quite so interesting as grandmother's old
house, whether you are a Swedish or an American girl.
Sigrid's grandmother lived in a fine old house on a hilltop which
overlooked Lake Mälar. It was only a short journey of two or three
hours from Stockholm, yet it was quite out in the country, several
miles from any village. As you drove through the avenue of huge
beech-trees, you would be curious to know why so many small, low-lying
buildings were grouped near the house. They were placed to form three
sides of a square, after the fashion of many Swedish country places.
Off in the distance were the barns, which the children visited, and
another group of red cottages, where the farm-helpers and their
families lived. These people lived in a little world by themselves,
with everything they needed right on the grounds. If Mrs. Lund wished
fish for dinner, she could not send a maid to market to buy a live fish
from a tank of water, as she did in Stockholm. Instead, one of the
servants caught the fish in the lake, or she ordered smoked fish from
the storehouse.
On each side of the family residence were houses for the servants. Some
of the small separate sheds were used for washing, baking, tools, and
provisions. But you would enjoy a peep into some of these buildings
with the children.
The new sailboat was anchored at the wharf near the bath-house. "Father
has promised to teach Erik how to sail this summer," said Sigrid. They
were clinging to the wharf railing, so that they could get a glimpse of
the little cabin, with its two bunks and red cushions. "I am glad you
learned to swim last summer, for now we can have such sport when Karin
and Elsa get here."
Sigrid had learned to swim when she was very small. Look in your
geography and you will see that almost one-tenth of the whole surface
of Sweden is covered with lakes and rivers. There is water, water
everywhere. Just fancy how miserable a Swedish mother would be if her
little daughter could not swim!
The door of the storehouse stood open when the children climbed the
hill from the lake, so they slipped in after Svea. On the outside, it
was just a mound of grassy earth, with a door cut in the grass, but no
windows.
"Isn't it cool in here!" exclaimed Anders. "Svea, aren't you going to
skim the milk?"
"Later in the day, Anders," said the maid, who held her lantern up over
her head while she hunted for the sausages.
From above, hung long strings of sausages, smoked hams, and fish. In
the dim light of the lantern, the children could see the big round
cheeses and the bins of potatoes. The pans of milk were set to cool in
another room of this queer storehouse.
"I wish you would give us some lingon jam," said Sigrid. "The kind we
had last year, Svea."
"Wait till I open a new jar. Now, run ahead, for I want to lock the
door," replied Svea. She had not forgotten how the children had teased
her the summer before for their favourite jam of red Swedish berries.
"Next week will be the time for washing. Perhaps mother will let us
ride down to the lake when the clothes are carried there," said Sigrid.
She tried to lift herself up on the window-sill to look into the
wash-house, where the huge copper kettle was ready to boil the clothes,
but she was not tall enough.
"Never mind," she said. "We can get into the bake-house, I am sure.
Sometime, Svea says, I may help her bake bread. It must be almost time
now, for she hasn't made any for several months."
In the city, Sigrid's mother bought her rye bread from a baker, but
grandmother had her bread baked three or four times a year in this
little house. Most of the room was filled by the huge stone fireplace,
which was heated to a high temperature. Then the coals were raked off
and the rye bread cooked on the hot stones.
"What does she do with this flat round piece of wood with a short
handle?" asked Anders, who was exploring.
"Oh," said Sigrid, "it is a great lark to watch her. She rolls out the
batter quite thin, and slips that wooden shovel beneath each cake. Then
she takes this other wooden spade with a long handle, shakes the cake
from the little spade to that one, and thrusts it on the hot stones.
Svea does it very quickly, but she laughed when I asked if it was hard,
so I don't believe it is as easy as it looks."
[Illustration: BAKING RYE BREAD AT GRANDMOTHER'S]
"Don't you think it is time for dinner? I am so hungry," said Anders.
"Guess what we are going to have to-day," said Sigrid.
"Pancakes and jelly," Anders replied promptly.
"No, sour milk, with powdered ginger on top."
"Let's run, then," said Anders, "because I don't want to be late and
have father say I cannot have any."
But they arrived in season and ate their full share of the white curds,
which they always enjoyed.
Inside of the old house, you would be amazed at the size of the rooms.
Though they were simply furnished, there was much choice old carved
furniture, lovely plants, and vines, so that the rooms were very
cheery. The floors were scrubbed beautifully clean and covered with
rugs. Everywhere was exquisite order and neatness.
As in the city home, the children had a large nursery, where they
always played during the little time they were indoors. A trapeze hung
between the nursery and an adjoining room; a large cushion rested
beneath. On rainy days, the children hung from this indoor swing and
climbed the ropes like young monkeys.
"One, two, three, four, five," counted Sigrid, as she sat on the porch
a few days after their arrival. "Why, are all those old women going to
help with the washing to-morrow, mother?"
"Yes; we shall need them all. Larsson has arranged for them to sleep
at some of the servants' houses, so they will be ready to begin very
early in the morning."
The queer procession of old women, with coloured kerchiefs tied over
their heads, slowly filed down the road. Long before the children were
awake the next morning, a fire had been lighted in the wash-house
beneath the monster kettle, and the women were at work.
Wasn't that a lively week, though! Sigrid's mother was an excellent
housekeeper, but she never had all the clothes and linen of the family
washed but three times a year! Such scores and scores of garments went
into that copper kettle--enough to clothe a whole village. Even if
her family had been quite poor, Sigrid would still have had many more
dresses and aprons than her American cousin.
By the time the oxen were harnessed to a long, low wagon with latticed
sides, Sigrid and Anders were ready to climb in and ride to the lake
with the old women and the tubs of clothes which had boiled in the
kettle.
As soon as they arrived at a clean, sandy beach near the wharf, the
children hopped out of the wagon.
"Let's sit in the rowboat at the end of the wharf," said Anders. "Then
we can play we are pirates and watch the women on the shore."
The washerwomen took off their shoes and stockings, pinned up their
skirts, and waded into the water. Then there was such a splashing and
rinsing of clothes, and bobbing of kerchiefed heads, and swinging of
long arms!
"They are bad children. We must beat them very hard," one wrinkled old
woman explained to Anders. She had carried her pile of dripping clothes
from the water's edge to a big stone, where she pounded them with a
flat wooden beater. "But they will be as white as a lily when I am
done."
Later all the garden bushes were spread with garments. You needed only
to half-close your eyes to fancy a summer snow-squall had whitened the
green grass over a large area.
"Everything in the house will be fresh and sweet for Midsummer's Day,"
sighed Mrs. Lund, when the last washerwoman had returned to the country
district where she lived.