THE NAME-DAY
THE summer months had winged themselves away. All through the golden
days, Sigrid had lived in the sunshine, as blithe and merry as an elfin
maid. To be sure, there had been a short lesson nearly every day with
Miss Eklund, for Sigrid's mother did not believe that her little girl
should spend all the holiday months in frolicking.
September had come, and with it hints of long lesson days and a return
to Stockholm. But in the excitement over Sigrid's name-day party, it
was easy to forget such unpleasant things. Karin, Elsa, and Karl, the
cousins who had also been making a long visit with their grandmother,
had begged to be allowed to stay for the party. Several little friends
who lived in fine villas on the lake were coming to spend the day.
"Be sure to call me at five o'clock in the morning, Miss Eklund," said
Elsa, on the evening before the party.
Miss Eklund promised, so Elsa arose at an early hour and awoke the
others. Followed by them, with their arms full of flowers and green
leaves, she tiptoed into Sigrid's room.
"Hush, Anders, your boots squeak. We must not waken her. That would
spoil everything," whispered Elsa.
"Hang the end of your garland over the bedpost, so," continued Elsa.
She festooned the brass post of Sigrid's bed with the long chain of
green leaves. Then she silently motioned to her sister Karin to do the
same with her end.
"I'll tie this bunch of bachelors'-buttons to the corner of the
foot-board where she will see them when she first opens her eyes,"
whispered Karin.
"My, doesn't it look pretty!" said Elsa. The children then filed out
into the hall and peered through the doorway. Sigrid's rosy cheeks
were half-buried in her plump arm, which was thrown up over her head.
She appeared to be soundly sleeping in the midst of a huge nosegay of
posies and green leaves.
"Now I wish she would wake up," exclaimed Anders in a very loud whisper.
Elsa put her hand over his mouth, but not before the quiet figure in
bed stirred a little. Suddenly Sigrid sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and
clapped her hands.
"Oh! Oh! Who did it?" she cried aloud.
In rushed the children, and then there was much laughing and kissing.
Each child very politely congratulated Sigrid because it was her
name-day. Even in the midst of a jolly good time, Swedish children do
not neglect these graceful forms of speech which their parents have
carefully taught them.
"Here comes Svea with a tray," somebody called out.
The children made way for the neat and smiling maid. On the dainty tray
which she placed in Sigrid's lap, was a cup of steaming coffee and a
plate of crisp caraway cookies. You might think that she had been sick,
so that every one was trying to cheer her on her name-day. Dear me, no.
Sigrid always had coffee and cakes served to her in bed every birthday
and every name-day, just as if she was a grown-up society lady.
Anders and Karin sat on the edge of the bed, and the others drew up
their chairs while Sigrid sipped her coffee.
"My big sister has two name-days," said Elsa.
"Does she have three parties every year?" asked Sigrid.
"Yes, indeed," replied Elsa. "Her real birthday comes in January. Then
her name-days are in July and October. I wish I had two name-days. But
mother says there are so many of us children that if we all had two
name-days, we should be having a party about once in every three weeks
all the year."
Everybody burst into laughter. Elsa had five brothers and sisters, so
what her mother had said was quite true.
In Sigrid's land, you see, they name all the days of the year. When a
little girl is born, she is generally given a name in the calendar.
Sigrid's birthday was in March, but Sigrid day in the calendar is in
September. So she had two parties every year.
"Name-day greetings, little daughter," said Mrs. Lund as Sigrid came
into the dining-room for breakfast. Again there was much kissing and
hand-shaking. Sigrid's chair at the table was draped with festoons
of leaves. As she ate her breakfast in silence, she could not keep
her eyes away from one corner of the room. There stood a little table
covered with a snowy cloth. The centre was heaped with bundles of all
shapes, done up in white paper with red sealing-wax. On the white cloth
"Sigrid" was written with almonds and raisins.
What good fun it was, after breakfast, to open all the mysterious
bundles! Such a heap of pretty things were concealed!
"Here is 'Little Women,'" said Sigrid in great delight. "How did you
know it was just what I wanted, mother?" For the tenth time Sigrid
got up to run and kiss her mother. The green and gold bound book from
which she had torn the wrapping was a translation of Louisa M. Alcott's
story, which is as dear to the little Swedish girl as to her American
cousin.
"No lessons to-day," said Miss Eklund, as the children came out of the
dining-room.
"Hurrah!" shouted Erik. "Won't you take us for a sail on the lake,
father? You promised to go with us once more before I started for
school."
"Sigrid's name-day would be a fine time to go. Let me see. How many of
you are there?" Major Lund looked around at the bright faces. Gerda and
Per and several other neighbours had already arrived. "Twelve--just two
more than you are years old, Sigrid."
"You had better start early," said Mrs. Lund. "Remember the party this
afternoon."
Just as if any one could forget!
The boys helped Major Lund to unfasten the boat from its moorings. A
puff of wind filled out the white sail and they were soon off.
"They thought I was asleep this morning when they were trimming my
room," Sigrid confided to Erik, who was showing her how to steer the
boat.
"Fie on you, Sigrid!" said Erik, quite seriously, but he gave her plump
cheek a little pinch.
"It was such fun," Sigrid laughed softly. "When I heard Elsa tell
Anders his boots squeaked, I thought I couldn't keep quiet a second
longer."
"Look at all those snipe, Erik," Major Lund interrupted. The boat was
sailing quite close to the shore. Several of these long-legged birds,
which were picking their way across the beach, were startled by the
voices and flew into the air.
"What a queer call they have, uncle," said Elsa.
"Listen a moment till you hear it again," said Major Lund.
They were very quiet for a couple of minutes.
"It sounds like the noise old Maja makes when he wants us to give him a
lump of sugar," said Gerda.
"They make that sound with their wings as they fly," said Major Lund.
"The 'horse-cuckoo,' some people call the snipe. Do you know how it
received that name?"
"Do tell us, father," said Anders.
"It is just a short story about a careless farmer who had a lazy
servant. For many days, the servant rode his master's horse to pasture
without giving the poor animal any water to drink. That was a very dry
summer, so the horse suffered greatly.
"One day the farmer wanted to drive to market. So he said to his
servant:
"'Fetch my horse from the pasture.'
"The servant went after the horse, but it had disappeared. He delayed
so long that the master finally followed him into the field. But he
could not find the horse either. Just as they had given up the search,
they heard a neigh. In the next meadow, where they had been hunting,
they saw the horse drinking at a spring.
"'Are you really there?' cried the farmer. He hastened over the stone
wall to catch the horse. As he was about to put the halter over its
neck, the horse disappeared and a snipe flew into the air. There the
bird neighed till sunset."
"That served the farmer quite right," said Erik, indignantly, and the
others agreed with him.
The broad waters of Lake Mälar were alive with sailing craft and small
steamers. Who would stay indoors on such a day! Along the wooded slopes
of the lake they sailed past many a lovely villa, half-hidden by trees,
and occasionally some ancient castle.
"That is the place where I saw a water-sprite late one afternoon,"
said Sigrid. The breeze had died down and the boat seemed to rest at
anchor near an old wooden bridge beneath which a hillside brook rushed
joyously into the lake.
"Did you really?" asked Elsa. Sigrid believed in trolls, sea-nymphs,
fairies, and water-sprites. But Elsa was several years older than her
cousin, and she wasn't at all certain that trolls and water-sprites
still lived in the wild country, though they might have in the olden
times.
"Look underneath the bridge in that dark corner, just behind those
rushes. Erik was rowing me home from your house, Gerda. When we got
just there, something white and misty rose up out of the water. I
heard a soft, sweet note, and Erik thought perhaps he did too. Then I
thought I saw him dimly resting on the waves, just as Miss Eklund says
water-sprites do."
"Weren't you frightened?" asked Karin in wide-eyed surprise.
"I wanted Erik to stop rowing so I could listen, but he wouldn't.
Mother said he must never take me there again toward night. Father,
won't you tell us the story of the water-sprite and the budding staff,
while we are waiting for the wind to come up?" begged Sigrid.
"It doesn't look as though we should do much sailing for awhile. But
you must all know the old legend, I am sure," said Major Lund.
"We should like to hear it just the same," the children all chimed in.
"Well," began Major Lund, "this water-sprite lived under an old bridge
just like that one over there. He was such a happy fellow that he sat
playing his harp half the livelong day. One afternoon, a grim and
sour-faced old priest came ambling along on his horse, over the bridge.
"Suddenly he drew rein, for he heard the sweetest music. He rode back
across the bridge and hunted several minutes before he discovered the
merry sprite.
"In his ugliest tone of voice the priest called out:
"'Why do you play your harp so joyously? Have you nothing to do but
idle away the day and the night in such foolishness? A lazy sprite like
you will never get to heaven. I should sooner expect to see this staff
which I carry grow green and blossom, than find you there.'
"The water-sprite threw down his harp in great terror and began to weep
bitterly. What had he ever done that the old priest should frighten him
so?
"Without giving further heed to the sprite, the priest rode on. For
many years, his own life had been so dull and solemn, that it made him
bitter to see other people happy. He found a cruel pleasure in making
the little sprite wretched.
"While he was buried in his own gloomy thoughts, he did not see that
the staff in his hands was slowly changing into the green branch of a
living tree. Tiny green buds, then leaves, slowly, silently unfurled.
As silently flower-buds appeared and opened into rosy blossoms, spicy
with fragrance.
"The priest, at last, beheld the branch of leaves and flowers in his
hand. He was filled with great wonder at himself. While the dead staff
of wood slowly bloomed in his hands, something hard and cold in his
heart seemed to melt. Not since he was a small boy had he listened to
the singing of the birds with such joy. He dismounted from his horse to
gather a handful of wild lilies-of-the-valley.
"He even smiled on a whistling peasant boy who passed him on the road.
Then he thought of the weeping sprite. In all haste he rode back to
the bridge.
"To the sobbing lad, he said:
"'Behold how my old staff has grown green and flowers like a rose-bush
in June. This is a symbol, my good fellow, that hope blooms in the
hearts of us all. You may yet go to heaven.'"
At that minute, the limp sails stirred, the ropes rattled in the
breeze, and the boat was soon under way.
Early in the afternoon, the other guests of the party arrived. I could
not begin to tell you all the games they played. Some were like those
of their American cousins, but there were many new ones. Next to "Blind
Man's Buff," and "Last Couple Out," the best fun was "Lend, Lend Fire."
All the children sat in a circle for this game. Karin, who had a cane,
walked up to Erik and rapping on the floor, said, "Lend, Lend Fire."
But Erik replied, "Go to the next neighbour." Half-way around the
circle Karin went, but every one made the same answer. In the meantime,
the children were beckoning across to each other and exchanging seats.
Finally, Karin was nimble enough to slip into a chair which was vacant
for a second. It happened to be Sigrid's place, so it was her turn to
take the cane and hunt for fire.
Mrs. Lund played for the children to dance old-fashioned ring dances.
Sigrid would no more have thought her party complete without these
dances in a big circle than if there had been no name-day cake. For of
course she had a name-day cake. It did not have any candles, and it was
not like any birthday cake you ever saw. Across the top of the round
loaf of sweetened bread, "Sigrid" was written in twisted strips of
bread, with cardamom seeds and currants sprinkled all over.
Where could you find a prettier, cosier supper-room than within the
round lilac hedge with its wide opening for a door? Here the table was
set for the guests.
Inside the lilac-bush hedge, with her other guests, we must say
good-bye to our little Swedish cousin. Sometime, I hope you will cross
the seas and meet her again. She is such a winsome maid, so healthy,
happy, and well-mannered, that I am sure you would soon be good friends.
THE END.
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=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
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=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
By Blanche McManus
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
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By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
By Claire M. Coburn
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
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LIST OF TITLES
=Aunt Nabby's Children.= By Frances Hodges White.
=Child's Dream of a Star, The.= By Charles Dickens.
=Flight of Rosy Dawn, The.= By Pauline Bradford Mackie.
=Findelkind.= By Ouida.
=Fairy of the Rhone, The.= By A. Comyns Carr.
=Gatty and I.= By Frances E. Crompton.
=Great Emergency, A.= By Juliana Horatia Ewing.
=Helena's Wonderworld.= By Frances Hodges White.
=Jackanapes.= By Juliana Horatia Ewing.
=Jerry's Reward.= By Evelyn Snead Barnett.
=La Belle Nivernaise.= By Alphonse Daudet.
=Little King Davie.= By Nellie Hellis.
=Little Peterkin Vandike.= By Charles Stuart Pratt.
=Little Professor, The.= By Ida Horton Cash.
=Peggy's Trial.= By Mary Knight Potter.
=Prince Yellowtop.= By Kate Whiting Patch.
=Provence Rose, A.= By Ouida.
=Rab and His Friends.= By Dr. John Brown.
=Seventh Daughter, A.= By Grace Wickham Curran.
=Sleeping Beauty, The.= By Martha Baker Dunn.
=Small, Small Child, A.= By E. Livingston Prescott.
=Story of a Short Life, The.= By Juliana Horatia Ewing.
=Susanne.= By Frances J. Delano.
=Water People, The.= By Charles Lee Sleight.
=Young Archer, The.= By Charles E. Brimblecom.
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=The Little Colonel.= (Trade Mark.)
The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small
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resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and
old family are famous in the region.
=The Giant Scissors.=
This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a
great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with
her the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays."
=Two Little Knights of Kentucky.=
WHO WERE THE LITTLE COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS.
In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but
with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of
the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights."
=Mildred's Inheritance.=
A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America
and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by
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to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and
thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one.
=Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.=
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of the issue of this volume for young people.
=Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.=
A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all
boys and most girls.
=Big Brother.=
A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small
boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale.
=Ole Mammy's Torment.=
"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern
life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells
how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right.
=The Story of Dago.=
In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey,
owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the
account of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing.
=The Quilt That Jack Built.=
A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed
the course of his life many years after it was accomplished.
=Flip's Islands of Providence.=
A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final
triumph, well worth the reading.
_By EDITH ROBINSON_
=A Little Puritan's First Christmas.=
A story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented
by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother
Sam.
=A Little Daughter of Liberty.=
The author's motive for this story is well indicated by a quotation
from her introduction, as follows:
"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution,
the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation
is another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less
historic in its action or memorable in its consequences."
=A Loyal Little Maid.=
A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the
child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George
Washington.
=A Little Puritan Rebel.=
This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the
gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts.
=A Little Puritan Pioneer.=
The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at
Charlestown. The little girl heroine adds another to the list of
favorites so well known to the young people.
=A Little Puritan Bound Girl.=
A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to
youthful readers.
=A Little Puritan Cavalier.=
The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish
enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders.
_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramée_)
=A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY.
Too well and favorably known to require description.
=The Nurnberg Stove.=
This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price.
_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_
=The Little Giant's Neighbours.=
A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the
creatures of the field and garden.
=Farmer Brown and the Birds.=
A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best
friends.
=Betty of Old Mackinaw.=
A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little
readers who like stories of "real people."
=Brother Billy.=
The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty
herself.
=Mother Nature's Little Ones.=
Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood,"
of the little creatures out-of-doors.
=How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.=
A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an
unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be
forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of
exciting incidents.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Note: Period added after Mackie in Goldenrod Library List.
End of Project Gutenberg's Our Little Swedish Cousin, by Claire M. Coburn